


Don't let me forget you

by Anki_Shai



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Amnesiac Thranduil, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Thranduil, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Hurt Thranduil (Tolkien), M/M, Memory Loss, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Protective Thorin, Rivalry between dwarves and elves, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smaug can use magic as Glaurung, Smaug destroys Mirkwood Dale and Erebor, Top Thorin, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: Erebor was the greatest Dwarven Kingdom in Middle Earth, everyone had heard of their growing wealth and power but not many had known of the growing sickness in the King's mind. At the end of autumn, King Thrór was decided to submit his neighbours to his will when something unexpected happened taking away everything the Dwarves of Erebor had built for centuries.In the midst of such a tragedy Prince Thorin, heir to the Dwarven Throne, and King Thranduil of the woodland Realm were thought to be dead when in reality they were merely lost with Thorin trying to find a way back to his people and Thranduil trying to discover who he was and why he suddenly felt such attraction to the dwarf who kept on getting on his nerves.
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Thranduil
Comments: 27
Kudos: 55





	1. The Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys!  
> I'm back with a new story and I surely hope you like it. More tags will come as the story progress but this is the premise of the story. As always, remember English is not my mother tongue so whatever grammar, spelling and funny mistakes you found in here, please forgive me. Thank you for stopping by and, happy reading.

**Chapter 1**

**The Kingdom**

The Lonely Mountain projected a far-reaching shadow on the northern side of Rhovanion.

Ever since its establishment, the Kingdom of Erebor had grown in influence and wealth once a community of simple and humble dwarves that served and sought odd jobs to survive, became one of the most influential Kingdoms in Middle Earth. Without a doubt, their stubbornness and hardworking nature paid off, and as centuries came and went, Erebor finally reached the apex of its greatness under the reign of Kind Thrór.

As a young King, Thrór had made sure the raw materials they produce in the mountain were sought after by the other Kingdoms. By the time he reached maturity and was way beyond his twentieth year of reign, the stronghold he held on his neighbours and the rest of the Dwarven Kingdoms was quite evident. Every year, Mirkwood and Esgaroth would come forth to pay homage to King Thrór, and every year the King made sure the rest of the Dwarven Kingdoms offered more than simple words and treaties of commercial benefits. As time passed by and Thrór continued with his reign, it was quite evident the King no longer worry about the growing darkness in faraway lands, or the fate of travellers that did not represent a gain for the mountain. Thrór had become a greedy King, and year after year his neighbours and allies felt the weight of such changes on the agreements they were ordered to sign.

No one dare to say no, of course. For King Thrór had not only grown in ambition but also in cruelty, his words were always accompanied with the promises of gold or blood; not many were ready to face the great dwarven army the King had built with the years.

Even the elves had come to the conclusion that saying no to the Dwarven King would bring more sorrow and unnecessary conflict they could not afford to sustain.

It was like this that, on the last week of autumn the elven entourage approached the mountain alongside the road visitors and traders and everyone wanting to get into Erebor used on a daily basis. The great Elven-King lifted his face, his silver eyes caressed impassively the mighty form of the mountain, he showed no emotion but his heart and mind were deep in turmoil as he knew what his visit would entail. He sensed his son approaching him, the young Prince scowled openly to the mountain and the passing dwarves who shot them curious glances; it had been quite some time since Thranduil had been at Erebor after all.

“We shall get moving, the sooner we attend this meeting the sooner we will be back in Mirkwood,” Thranduil finally said urging his mount to advance in between the busy road.

Legolas and the rest of the entourage followed them, the young Prince approached the shadow of the mountain with a heavy heart. This time around, he suspected the visit would be different to the previous ones.

* * *

The heir to the throne of Erebor, Prince Thráin, stood at the gates leading to the Throne Hall; his lips pursed impatiently as he saw Thorin and Balin approaching the door with smiles and easy talk on their lips. The middle-age dwarf straightened up shooting a stern glance to his son who soon wiped away the smile bowing to his father in respect.

“Father.”

“You are late, Thorin.” The Prince admonished glancing critically at the young heir.

Thorin scowled deeply, “I didn’t want to be here.”

It was an old discussion and just like the night before Thráin shot a warning glance to his son, his hands went directly to the neck of the blue and silver tunic Thorin chose for the occasion. He fixed the garment letting out a tired sigh.

“Your grandfather does not tolerate tardiness, Thorin, nor does he appreciate disobedience,” Balin pressed his lips together shaking his head surreptitiously when he realized Thorin was about to protest.

“The elves come every year to pay homage to us, to the King! I just don’t understand why I have to be here today.” Thorin ignored Balin who merely rolled his eyes, Thráin stepped back satisfied with the way his son was looking.

For a moment, silence filled the hall and Thorin thought his father was just going to ignore his question; Thráin however dropped his shoulders before speaking.

“When the King commands, Thorin, we obey.” Those words were said with finality, the eyes of his father gleamed strangely as Thorin furrowed his brows in confusion. “Don´t complain about your duty, carry your duties as a heir of Durin with pride and dignity. Now, come.”

There was tiredness in his father bearing; the young Prince could see there was some untold story behind the whole theatre of both heirs being present to welcome the elves. Thorin pressed his lips together glancing to Balin before returning his attention to his father who was now facing the door. Balin watched as the Royal guards opened the doors presenting arms to the two Princes who entered the Throne Hall alone. Balin stood outside watching as the door close behind Thorin; there was something fishing going on but he did not know what to do, this meeting with the elves and the sudden change in their King was some worrisome news. Balin glanced one last time to the door before going back to the main hall, he needed to speak with Dwalin.

Thorin entered the room behind his father, his eyes soon noticed the great throne chair at the far side of the room. His grandfather was sitting there with the Arkenstone hanging above his head giving the King a mighty image. The King smile widely waving his hands exaggeratedly as his eyes went from Thráin to Thorin.

“My son and grandson!” His voice resounded on the great hall, no warm but command behind his tone. “Come, come I was told the elves had arrived and are waiting on the other door for me to grant them permission of entrance.”

This was said with great pride, and Thorin saw the glint of satisfaction on his grandfather’s eyes. The young Prince approached his King, his eyes fell upon a table to the right in which a small chest adorned with copper and oak rested with a bad close lid, as if it was left there on purpose. Thorin glanced in curiosity but returned his attention to Thrór who was smiling strangely at him.

“Thorin, come to my left. Thráin, to my right.” The King commanded, his right hand waved away to the guards at the main gate. “Let the elves pass!”

The great doors opened before them and, soon enough the elven delegation came crossing the doors with proud stance and regal bearing.

Thorin held himself before any exclamation left his mouth, he straightened up when his father shot him a warning stare; with some embarrassment, Thorin held himself with as much dignity as he could muster putting into practice all those long hours of training in royal etiquette. Nevertheless, his attention had already been caught by the elf leading the Woodland Realm entourage. It was not as if he hadn't seen the elves before, of course he had; pointy ears, silver or dark hair, white skin, all fair and almost the same, there was nothing extraordinary about them. Thorin had been drawn on those first occasions to the Captain and the Prince; Captain Tauriel was a she-elf with red-hair and green eyes, she was not only beautiful but an adept warrior and different to her peers. the Prince, without any doubt, was of a different breed for he was not only handsome but held between himself a light Thorin could only compare to that of the moon. 

On this day, however, he found out not all elves were the same and he realized there was much to learn about the race of the Eldar.

He could not tear his eyes away from the newcomer, Thorin had not recollection of ever seeing him before. The elf was imposing without any effort he _glided_ towards the throne, Thorin noticed the elf stood taller than the others with a faint light of ethereal nature surrounding his whole persona, the hair gleamed like new gold under the flame of the forge. Those lips pursed adorning a stunning face in which doe eyes gleamed like mithril under the moonlight; the elf’s lithe body moved with grace and power as hard as a diamond but as soft as the finest of silks. Thorin found himself entranced by the dangerous beauty this male exude without even trying.

Those silvered eyes flickered for a moment, Thorin’s breath caught in his throat as he was discovered in the midst of his examination; his stomach exploded in a warm tingling as he tried to get a hold of his rampage emotions. He pursed his lips and, when he went to look back to the elf the male was looking at his grandfather. It was then Thorin understood who was standing before them, it was the elf King who wore but a simple circlet of white gold above his head and clad his body in silver and black with simple footwear and two mighty swords hanging from his hips.

“Welcome, welcome King Thranduil,” King Thrór broke the silence with a loud voice. “It is good to see you have finally accepted my invitation to come to my kingdom.”

Thorin glanced at his grandfather; the King was looking rather smugly and his lips curled in a sneer. The elf however seemed unmovable; he just inclined his head briefly with just a single twitched of his eyebrows.

“Indeed.” Thranduil straightened up putting one foot forward until he was but five steeps away from the throne; his hand soon produced a single parchment Thrór seemed to recognize for he let out a single snort.

“It was hard for me to decline such an imposing invitation, King Thrór.”

Thrór laughed waving his hand away; soon Thráin shifted making his way to the table where he grabbed the chest in his arms. The King turned dark eyes, cold as ice, to the elf.

“I have to make sure it was you and not your son the one speaking with me this time, Thranduil.” The King all but snarled nodding to Thráin who approached the elf. “This business should be discussed between equals. From one King to another.”

Thráin stood before the elf who glanced down on him before setting his eyes on an eager Thrór, the Dwarven-King could not hide the smugness on his features nor the glint of maliciousness in his eyes.

“Go on,” said Thrór waving his hand. “You can take a look.”

Thranduil opened the chest with wary hands, Thorin was observing the whole scene confusedly and not for the first time he wondered just what the hell was going on between the Kings. For the young Dwarven-Prince, it was obvious whatever it was on that chest was of great value to King Thranduil for those silver eyes moved avidly with just a hint of desire and relief. However, as soon as his hand approached the contents of the chest Thráin closed it with a loud thud and Thranduil jerked back straightened up shooting Thrór an unreadable glare.

“There is so much to discuss, Thranduil.” Thrór stood up glancing at the elf while Thráin stepped back returning the chest to the table. “Let my people lead you and your committee to the guests cottages, we will discuss the contents of the chest and my letter later once you have rest from the long trip.”

Thorin saw the sneer on those beautiful lips, those eyes enlarged by what had just happened but the elf was unable to do nothing more than tilted his head in mock agreement just as Thrór gave his back to the elf. The Dwarven-Prince read the anger on the entourage of the Elven-King at the blatant dismissal from King Thrór, but Thranduil made a quick jerked of his head and whatever replied Prince Legolas or the Captain had was cut by the simple gesture. Thorin followed swiftly behind his father, the King opted to use the personal door located behind the throne chair; Thorin offered one last glance to the elves, his eyes fell upon the form of the Elven-King whose eyes were glaring openly at the throne.

It was the only moment in which Thorin saw a crack on such a beautiful face, or such an expression of open animosity against his grandfather or his kin in general.

* * *

“What was that?” Thorin all but demand from his father.

Thráin took off his crown placing it with care on the small coffee table he had on his private studio, the room was filled with parchments and scrolls, unfinished business the Crown Prince would need to attend as soon as he had the conversation with his son. Thorin stood by the door, those blue eyes demanding answers, so much like his mother. Thráin sat down on his favourite armchair indicating with his hand the other one, Thorin hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and taking the other chair.

“King Thrór seeks to broaden our alliance with the Woodland Realm,” Thráin shot Thorin a stern glance silencing whatever comment his son might have.

“The King found something that will give him leverage in this alliance and, that’s why King Thranduil came personally,” Thráin diverted his glance to the crown then back to Thorin. “We are going to discuss the terms on this new treaty.”

“What did grandfather found?” Thorin inquired leaning forward, his eyes looking for answers his father was reluctant to give.

“A trinket.” Thráin spoke with such a finality Thorin knew there was nothing else his father would say about the matter.

“Thorin, you are off age and, at the moment, you are being prepared to be King one day,” Thráin spoke to his son not without warm in his voice, but Thorin knew this conversation was meant to be something else. “The King will strike a deal that will make sure those pointy ears would never rise in arms against us.”

Thorin furrowed his brows, “Father, we have not quarrelled with the elves. They pay homage to the King since I have memory and they are dependent on us in many aspects, including military matters.”

Thráin showed a proud smile to his son, nodding with approval, “Yes, they do. However, you need to learn the race of Eldar is a traitorous one, more so if they are dealing with dwarves. The mistakes of the past are not easily forgotten, at least not for someone like Thranduil.”

The room submerged in a deep contemplative silence, Thorin did not know much about elves. He could admit they are graceful, fair and quite adept in battle; but of quarrels of the past he knew nothing much. He knew they live forever so, of course, there must be some conflict they remember that dwarves merely write about. Thorin shook his head, he would need to look into this if he were to understand what really was going on.

“Do not think too much about it, Thorin. This will be beneficial for us, it would keep them on a tight leash and we will prevail.” Thráin then stood up walking towards his desk, a silent dismissal for the young heir.

“I trust you, father. And I trust grandfather,” Thorin finally said offering a half smile to Thráin. “I will not think too much about it but, please inform me if there is something I need to know. I cannot do my duties if I only know half of the business in the Kingdom.”

Thráin chuckled sitting on his chair in front of the desk, “Of course, Prince Thorin. You will be informed, in due time. Now go, your duties await you.”

Thorin left his father’s study in deep thought, he knew the King held no love for the Eldar and his animosity against the elves was quite obvious. But his father, he had always been at least respectful and never opened to his dislike or showed any ill-will against them. This conversation was not to be taken lightly and yet Thorin could do no more than dismissed it for the moment. There would be time to think about this, and to find out more about the meeting with the elves. Thorin walked down the stairs of the Royal Palace, he soon found Dwalin and Balin waiting for them, that afternoon they were supposed to meet with the miners and then go to the toy maker’s district to discuss shipment and raw materials.

The arrival of the elves forgotten, and Thorin distracted with his duty as a Prince.

* * *

For two days, King Thrór held the elves under the pleasantries of the mountain postponing their final meeting with several excuses King Thranduil could not deny.

The King delighted himself in the impatience showed by the Elven-Prince and the pretend aloofness from the Elven-King. He knew without a doubt, Thranduil must be desperate to held council with him and finished all this pretence of friendship; but Thrór was not who he used to be, and his greed had transformed him in a cruel and manipulative monarch. He was waiting for the right time, the right moment in which he would tie the elves in a reluctant servitude to his Kingdom. So, these two days were a lesson of humility to Thranduil, in this time he would learn that he and his kin were at the mercy of Erebor and their King.

Thrór ordered on the third day, early in the morning, for King Thranduil to be brought to the council chamber where he would finally attend to the elf. He would be alone, for the matters of the state were between Kings. Thorin was ordered to entertained Prince Legolas and the Captain Tauriel, and Thráin would be right beside Thrór, the rules only applied to the elf.

On the third morning then, Thranduil and Thrór held council while Thorin took Legolas on a short tour around the mountain.

The morning was growing old by the time they made it to the forest located at the east slope of the mountain, it was a space in which a great forest grew until it meet with the city of men. Thorin had with him his sword as well as the axe Dís and Frerin had giving him for his coming off age, on his back he held the compound bow and quiver the elves had brought on their last visit as a gift for him. Legolas was at his side, he too carried a bow and quiver with an elvish blade of fine manufacture, behind them their guards would pay close attention as to not interrupt this time.

“I have seen this forest before but, never got the chance to come to it,” Legolas let his hands caressed the texture of the trunk and the leaves, his elven eyes studying the nature of the place.

“I was told you would prefer a change in scenery as the caves and mines could be a little boring for you,” Thorin made the comment while approaching the Prince from behind, Legolas snorted tilting his head.

“Then, I will thank Master Balin for such a suggestion,” Prince Legolas offered a smug smile when Thorin grunted in acknowledgement, this was not the Prince first visit and he had learnt a long time ago Balin was the diplomatic one.

Whatever tension between them seemed to be softened by this visit, Thorin turned back to see Dwalin nodding approvingly. They really needed to thank Balin for this, Thorin was getting fed up by those icy answers and those glares he was receiving from the elves, it was not his fault his grandfather had postpone the meeting and then asked the Elven-King to meet with him alone. Prince Legolas stepped forward, his head lifting to the clear sky above their heads, that day the sun had been projecting shadows but it’s warm reminded them winter was approaching.

“There is a waterfall over there,” Legolas squinted his eyes and Thorin stretched his neck forward to try and see the place.

He only saw trees and brushwood, he glanced at the elf who seemed rather entertained with what he was seeing.

“You have keen eyes, Prince Legolas.”

“Elven eyes,” said the Prince shrugging. “Mightier than those of the dwarves, I supposed.”

Thorin tensed but said nothing, Prince Legolas stepped forward and soon they were making their way to the waterfall conversation falling into a cordial exchanged of knowledge. 

By the time they were making it back to the mountain the tension between both races had grown again, the shadow of Erebor covered the road they were using and the conversation of the many visitors coming and going to Erebor and Dale filled the silence between them.

“It was a nice outing, Prince Thorin,” Legolas bowed his head towards the Prince who bow back. “I only regret the lack of singing from the birds. I really missed the singing of the sparrows or the caws for the crows.”

“I’m glad I could entertain you, Prince Legolas,” Thorin could not help but lifted his gaze to the sky, his conversation coming half distracted. “You will find lunch had been served for you and your people, since I am guessing King Thranduil will lunch with my grandfather.”

Legolas tilted his head back to the mountain, his body tensing while his eyes seemed to be looking far beyond of what Thorin could see. With a last bow, Tauriel and Legolas left to their quest cottage leaving a very confuse Thorin behind; Dwalin came to his friend furrowing his brows when Thorin glance at the sky.

The day had been cold and windy, Thorin did not remember such a windy day in the midst of autumn but he supposed he was not pretty observant to such things. There were clouds above them, and the sun while out was not as warm as it was in summer; but something he never missed to notice was the birds singing around the valley and the crows. They always were around cawing or just flying above the mountain and the road, looking for falling prices. If it weren't for the people moving around then, Thorin guess there would be a deathly silence surrounding the mountain.

“What is it? What did the elf tell you it left you so pensive?” Dwalin could not hold his curiosity any longer, he glance at Thorin then at the sky.

Thorin shrugged shaking his head, “He told me he didn’t hear the sparrows sing or the crows caw.”

Dwalin burst out laughing at this patting Thorin on the back who soon found himself laughing alongside his friend, both entered the mountain still laughing until Balin came to them.

“Really, those elves are just strange folk.”

“What is it?” Balin came to them tilting his head while looking from his brother then to Thorin.

“The elfling told Thorin he didn’t hear any birds today.” Dwalin chuckled still shaking his head. “And, you should see the face Thorin made…”

“Really, I hope you two behave yourselves around the Prince,” Balin admonished though he too was smiling, Thorin rolled his eyes hitting Dwalin on his arm.

“Stop it now!” Thorin grumbled though he too was smiling. “We did good, Master Balin, no need to worry about our manners.”

“Humph, I wish I could believe you,” the three of them started making their way back to the Royal Palace, the streets in Erebor were busy and many of them were getting ready for lunch time.

“Your sister and Frerin would like to lunch with you, Thorin,” Balin commented eyeing Thorin up and down. “I guess you will need to change your clothes, they will wait for you in the guardroom since Frerin is on duty today.”

“He is?" Thorin pursed his lips looking back at the gates where the guardroom was located it. "Good, I was eager to meet with him and Dís, I guess we don't share as much as we used to."

"Go on then, they will wait for you and don't forget later on we need to go back to the toy maker's district there are some unfinished business with them." Balin shot a warning glare to the Prince who was making his way back inside the Royal grounds.

"Don't worry, I will be there presentable and with my best garments."

Thorin parted way with his friends, all of them smiling at one another before going on their way.

Thorin took the road directly to the Main Hall of the palace, he was trying to get the private halls to get to his room quickly. He heard the sound of running servants and resting guards. The Dwarven-Prince sighed tiredly, the last couple of days had been hard with the elves in the mountain he had to divide his duties in between entertaining their guests and his daily job; he felt the tension amassing on his back creating knots on his muscles. He really needed a good, long bath and perhaps some healthy fun with a lass or lad from the pub Dwalin like so much. Thorin was contemplating his options, his eyes fixated on the straps on his vembrance; he was so distracted he never noticed the towering figure approaching on the hall until he crashed against it. Thorin staggered backwards, a quick apology on his lips that died before it could be uttered. His eyes fell upon the ethereal figure of the Elven-King. The elf shot Thorin an unkind glare, his lips lifted in a sneer before he moved past the dwarf with long and quick strides leaving a very confuse Thorin behind.

Thorin stood there for quite some time, his lips pursed in a thin line before he shook his head and decide to make his way back to his room. Dís and Frerin must be waiting for him.

_“All I am saying father, it's we cannot go about thinking there won’t be repercussions…”_

It was Thráin’s voice; Thorin stopped death on his track as he realized he was close to the council chamber. Thorin heard the low chuckled from his grandfather; something unpleasant went through the Prince’s heart at the darkness behind that sound.

_"He won’t do anything. I have him wrapped around my finger, he can hate us all he wants and still do our biding.”_

There was silence after such statement, Thorin turned his head right then left, he needed to get out of the hall before either his father or grandfather discovered he had been eavesdropping.

_“Father, the rumours…”_

_“Are just rumours!”_

There was a loud bang Thorin took his hand to the hilt of his sword, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

_"Even if they are not, I have the mightiest army in all of Middle Earth! Nothing can reach me and my possessions!”_

Whatever reply his father had at the ready, it never came.

Thorin turned sharply when the sound of a great explosion resounded in the halls of Erebor, the mountain trembled and soon the screams of people could be heard all around Erebor. For what seemed an eternity Thorin stood there, he heard approaching footsteps and his father and grandfather came from the council room wearing the same uneasy expression.

"Thorin? What are you doing here? What happened?" Thráin demanded his feet moving him further down the hall to where the commotion could be heard.

"I'm not..." Started Thorin but he trailed off as another explosion shake the very core of the mountain. Thorin tensed completely with his hand moving to his sword, screams from the Great Hall echoed around them. Without thinking it twice, Thorin turned around running towards the screams his eyes soon caught sight of the guards and the warriors, he heard his grandfather called to him and Thráin and, while Thráin did stop Thorin did not. His feet moved swiftly to see what happened and how he could help.

* * *

Dís rested her body against the railing at the guardroom.

She could see Dale from this height, the people coming in and out of the mountain as well as the great valley before the mountainside. She heard Frerin barking out orders for the change of guard while also requesting food, wine and ale to be brought since the Heirs of Durín would lunch together. Dís could not help her chuckle, her little brother was taking his duty as Captain quite seriously. 

“Please, bring forth more wine and bread, my brother will be here shortly,” Frerin closed the door behind him approaching his sister with two chalices. “What are you doing?”

“Just looking around, how are you Captain Frerin?” The young dwarf blushed profusely; of the three of them he was the timid one, always trying to impress her and Thorin.

“This is not easy task,” Frerin took a sip from his cup accompanying his sister in the sightseeing. “But, I’m getting used to it and they are not as hesitant as before to obey my orders.”

Dís chuckled ruffling Frerin’s hair in a playful manner, “My little brother is growing up, and you are becoming quite the catch. I heard that some of the ladies are already setting their eyes on you.”

Frerin rolled his eyes, “Please, do not bring such sweet words to me, we all know they are after Thorin.”

“True, I have more than one of these noble dwarven ladies asking about Thorin, he is handsome, brave, loyal and a good Prince,” Dís placed her hand on Frerin’s shoulder smiling kindly at him. “But, you are just as handsome as he is, you are brave, smart, funny and not so grumpy looking as Thorin.”

They shared a laugh turning lightly when the door open and the servants entered to place the food and beverages on the table. Dís returned her attention to the outside, her smile still on her lips everything seemed to be so quiet and calm; the sound of people moving about their business and the servants getting everything ready for her lunch with her brothers made for a perfect time.

There was nothing else she could ask, her attention went back to the balcony just as Frerin started telling her of his latest adventure. She loved hearing him talk, always so adventurous and curious, Frerin was quite the story teller. The she-dwarf nodded when needed to and laugh in the parts she knew her brother had behaved mischievously; she was so distracted by this conversation, she never noticed the lack of birds on the sky, or the growing winds and approaching clouds. No one really noticed the nervous neighing from the horses or the ponies; many had been distracted by the elves, who seemed rather eager to leave the mountain and were just waiting for their leaders to join them at the gates. 

"It seems negotiations didn't go well." Frerin commented his eyes had caught sight of the elves.

"Humph, doesn't surprise me, grandfather can be ruthless, but I am not so sure about fail negotiations," Dís took a sip from her chalice, she furrowed her brows when the blustery winds pushed banners and people around, the wind whistled blowing gusts raised around them. Frerin pursed his lips watching this with some curiosity while Dís merely furrowed his brows.

Soon, whatever sense of peace they felt or whatever signs of normality they experience were broken as a great ball of fire fell from the sky creating a huge explosion on the city of men.

No one was expecting such an spectacle, a collective gasp could be heard from those at the gates of the mountain.

“What…” Frerin didn’t get to finish his question for soon more fire came from the sky, Dale became consume by red and black, smoke raising at an alarming pace as the sound of battle horns broke into the valley.

People run around screaming and exclaiming, all of them pointing at Dale that seemed to be under attack by an invisible enemy. Many had gather at the gates of Erebor, it took Frerin but a second before he left the room to get his people at the ready, whatever was causing such an attack would surely come forth against the mountain, and they needed to be ready to assist Dale in any way they could.

Dís stood there, frozen with a hand trembling around her chalice, for she had seen those fire balls coming from the sky. Her heart speeding up its beat just as tension built up in her body; her fears were only confirmed by a sweet melodic voice belonging to an elf.

“DRAGON!”

The chalice escape her hands, she turned around running behind Frerin.

She never got the chance to see the great dragon approaching the mountain, his mouth wide open as he breathed destruction and dead above their land.


	2. The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys rock!!!  
> Thank you so much for the likes, for the kudos, bookmarks and for reading the story! I'm glad you all are liking it. Here is the new chapter, please do remember English is not my mother tongue so I apologies for all the grammar, spelling or funny mistakes.  
> Now, happy reading!

**Chapter 2**

**The fire**

The dragon came with taunting words; his voice filled with enchantments would stop his prey mid-escape before devouring them without mercy.

The first ones to fall were the inhabitants of the valley between Dale and Erebor. The flames erupted from the land, agonizing screams echoed through the mountain, as the beast flew above them using his tail as a whip and his claws as swords. 

Dwarves and men alike ran around looking for a way to escape trapped in between their own desperation. Many went inside the mountain looking for refuge; their hearts fluttering with hope when they noticed the Dwarven army approaching the gates. 

“Do not run no more, you have nowhere to go,” the dragon spoke with a powerful voice, his words sweet and entrancing wrapped around the hearts of the presents. “You should surrender, and I will be merciful. For I am Smaug, King Under the Mountain.”

The dragon smirked flipping his wings to gather wind under them; his claws left the mountain putting rubble down on the road and gates. Smaug soared in circles, his body igniting with the fire inside it. 

No one got a chance to escape. 

Smaug breathed fire inside the gates just as he went through them, the columns and statutes at each side of the gate falling down. Smaug entered the mountain without much effort making sure his tail sealed the entrance with heavy rocks. 

Once inside, Smaug shivered in pleasure as desperate screams filled his senses. His amber eyes fell upon the army of dwarves approaching, spears and swords, bows and arrows. He loved it when his prey fought the inevitable. His mouth opened wide as fire erupted from his throat, the right side burn in a second consuming everything in its wake. The dragon chuckled maliciously as he saw a little princeling approaching, his eyes gleamed as his voice filled the galleries of the dwarves.

“What have we here? Resistance, how charming.”

Frerin trembled as his hand grabbed the spear, his feet hitting the ground as he approached the enemy. His words, a chant in Khûzdul, prompting the warriors to protect their home, their people; he launched the first attack just as his primal instinct told him it was helpless.

They were not match for a live dragon.

The attacked was fruitless, but dwarves do not part easily from the treasures of their hearts. Thus, they fought with all they had, the greatest army forged by King Thrór. An army that was not ready for a dragon or to fight inside their halls while innocents run left and right trying to seek refugee or a way out of the mountain.

Smaug was enjoying the show; everything was engulfed in chaos as he moved forward. His eyes had already caught sight of the Royal Palace, and most probably, the place where the treasure room was located. The dragon straightened up, shaking his whole body in amusement for these weapons while mightier, were not forged by the fallen Kingdom of Belegost or the prideful hands of elves. And, as the warriors came, Smaug pushed forward taking with him innocent passers-by, flames surrounding him as his jaws clenched around tasty dwarven flesh. 

The city of Erebor was submerged in confusion, fear and death; soon smoke coming from the fires was preventing good visibility and many were already coughing and having difficulty in breathing. Smaug laughed with glee when he found himself surrounded, his eyes saw as many reached the gates only to let out yells of desperation at finding no way out. 

Frerin had called the warriors upon arms, but there was not much they could do against a live dragon of Smaug’s proportion. His claws were like spears tearing away whatever they touched, his jaw closed sharply and his fangs crushed the dwarves if trapped inside, armour or not armour on. The young Prince turned desperately towards the Great Hall leading to the Royal Palace waiting, hoping…

Where was Thorin? His Father, his grandfather? 

There was not much he could do for Smaug was great in strength, and he had started using his voice and words and many had already fallen to his tricks. 

Just when Frerin welt wariness filled his heart at the sight of falling warriors or those who were abandoning arms and left to find their families, Frerin caught sight of gold and green, silver and black and several war machines showing from the Royal grounds. At the head of the rest of the dwarven army was Thorin, sword and shield on hand screaming in Khûzdul to his right the elves had also arrived with the King and their Prince at the head with mighty bows and swift arrows looking to harm the dragon. 

Frerin smiled in relief, his strengthen restored as he also motivated the rest of the dwarven forces behind him. This new mood of hopefulness displeased Smaug greatly, he knew if he did not crush such a small resistance his reign over the mountain could be threatened, his amber eyes fell upon the elves and hatred grew in his heart a plan already forming in his mind as he set his ill-intent in the King.

*****

By the time Dís reached the entrance Hall Smaug had already left a path of death and destruction. Wherever she turned her stare there was mourning and desperation, she saw the burning districts of traders and toy makers, the homes of miners and jewellers. Dís stood for a brief moment as the world she had grew in crumbled before her eyes, everyone was running ad screaming without any direction while, in the distance deep inside the mountain the warriors and the dragon faced one another.

It took Dís a few seconds to react, but when she did her voice broke into command and authority. Many turned to look at her, confusion evident in their eyes until they recognized the royal clothing and symbol of the House of Durin in her clothing.

“Children of Erebor, stop this weeping, let’s find a way out. NOW!”

In the years to come, many would remember and even sing about the valiant efforts of their Princes and Princess to get the inhabitants of Erebor to safety. The dragon brought with him a shadow of desolation, but seeing the heirs of Durin fight against fate spurred something in the dwarven folks who went to Dis side waiting for instructions.

The gates of Erebor laid before them and, while the entrance was obstructed it was possible to work a way out. They just needed time and Dis found with a shrinking heart her brothers and the King and Prince of the elves were doing just that.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” The Captain of the elven guard appeared with some of her elves following swift.

Dís glanced at the red-head nodding briefly, “This is the only entrance and the only exit, we need to open it if we want to run and escape.”

A violent burst of fire and stone blinded them, Dís felt a pair of hands putting her down protectively and she knew the elf had protected her from a certain death. 

“We need to work fast, this dragon is wrecking the place soon there won't be anyone.”

Tauriel’s words sent a shiver down Dís' back, she incorporated sending a horrified stare to those around them. 

“The gates! We need to create an opening!”

Soon, dwarves and elves worked on the breakage Smaug had left behind. Dís turned to see as Smaug kept on advancing with little to no resistance before him. He saw his little brother commanding warriors, all of them trying to corner the dragon, then a flash of gold and silver and Dís realized elves were fighting as well. When she turned to the Captain the red-head was looking at the scene with eager eyes, her fists clenched tightly to her sides. 

“They are making sure we have a chance to escape,” Tauriel tried to explain the unasked question. “Nothing can destroy a live dragon, we need to do this fast while your people and my Lords are distracting him.”

“Then, let's be swift,” Tauriel watched as Dís turned around and soon she was working on stone and wood and metal to create a small chance of escape from this trap in the mountain. 

Tauriel observed her lords fighting a lost battle, she did not know how this visit turned out to be so catastrophic; but the moment she saw the silent rage on King Thranduil she knew something bad happened during his meeting with the King. It didn't last though for as soon as he ordered everyone to get ready to leave, chaos had fallen upon them. A dragon. Tauriel’s eyes opened wide as she saw the amber glint of those beast’s eyes and soon the flames coming towards them. 

“Take cover!” Tauriel dragged Dís away from the flames of the dragon who had discovered their intention.

Tauriel saw as the weapons the dwarves had armed were now trying to take the dragon down, Smaug turned his attention to this new attackers with fire erupting from his mouth as those wings created blowy winds around himself.

Dís incorporated watching as the ceiling fall in pieces, her brothers still deep in a lost fight. A hand closed around her shoulder and she soon found herself looking deep into green eyes, the elf offered a comforting smile nodding towards the door.

“Let’s keep working on this.”

Dís nodded and soon everyone was working again, the exit taking form as elves and dwarves worked faster with the shadow of destruction still hanging above their heads.

* * *

Smaug roared into the mountain, his guttural roars carried through the echo of the halls of Erebor.

Many trembled under the silent rage of the dragon; some others stood their ground pointing spears, arrows and swords to the beats. Smaug shook his body crashing columns and homes, his fire igniting the homes of the dwarves as he continued his way towards the Royal grounds.

Smaug was by this point furious.

His plan was going marvellous, he tasted the fear of the dwarves in the air, he bathed in their desperation as he swallowed them down. Then, this army of warriors and those damned elves appeared in the midst of the chaos he had created. He had smelt them, of course, and he knew Erebor was housing some elves, but thought them smarter than this creating resistance when it was futile. It was not his first time fighting the Firstborns and certainly would not be the last time. After he was finished with Erebor he would make sure the elves of the forest would not feel the need to rise in arms against him ever again.

For now, he would make sure none inside the mountain was left alive. 

Smaug roared again working his body in full destruction, his tail swung around breaking houses and columns with pieces of ceiling falling above the ground. By now, many soldiers lay on the grown burn or half eaten, many crushed under the weight of the beast or pierce by its claws. 

Smaug smiled maliciously for he saw as the Heirs of Durin brought with them whatever army was left in the mountain. On his back he had the youngest warrior who had some difficulty holding back his dwarves; right in front of him he had the oldest one, the dwarf meant to inherit the throne and the gold. 

Thorin had arrived with many warriors on his back, his hands holding a shield and a sword, the dwarves under his command trying to arm crossbows, ballista and catapults in the midst of the vicious attacks from the beast. Even like this, it was obvious to Thorin and the most experienced warriors; the greatest army in Middle Earth was really not prepared for such a vicious attack or to break into the hard carcass of a dragon. 

But Thorin was not about to give up, he needed to make a stance if only to give his people a chance to escape. Smaug crushed them easily, one by one the organized group of dwarves fell as arrows and spears bounced on the harsh skin of the dragon. Attack after attack, Thorin made sure to bark out orders while facing Smaug, whatever fear he held in his heart diminished at the sight of his homeland being destroyed and the many dwarves already death who had not a chance to run from the dragon.

With a new fire burning in his soul, Thorin placed itself right beside the dwarves using the catapults. He helped lifting the stones and working around as the dragon continued his way forward. Smaug narrowed his eyes, watching as the dwarves armed weapons of great force to stop him, his lips curled up just as his abdomen ignited with yellow and red.

“Watch out!”

The warning came too late; Thorin opened his eyes as the flames seemed to come his way. He never noticed the sudden attack, but he did felt a pair of hands on his shoulders dragging him back in the protective shadow of the thick wall leading to the Royal Gardens.

Thorin felt dizzy, his eyes holding the memory of those flames ready to consume him, the laughter from Smaug resounding in the halls o Erebor just as his voice, sweet and entrancing, brought forth unwilling victims.

The Dwarven-prince lifted his ace to see the frame of his saviour, the Elven-King had not let go of his shoulders and they were standing a breath away from the other. Those silver eyes lowered to glance at the Prince who suddenly felt a shivered of cold run down his back. King Thranduil was a sight to behold, a white light covering his whole being while silent rage poured from his every action.

“This is not a place for a young Prince,” his words cut deep inside Thorin who moved away facing the elf with ferocious eyes. 

“My people are being devoured by this creature! This is the only place I need to be!”

Thorin went to leave but the hand closed around his shoulder again, the fire of dragon kept on coming and they soon had to move further into the gardens moving towards the right approaching the gates leading to the right wing o the palace. The screams were unbearable, Thorin trembled in helplessness and rage, he tried to disentangle himself from the elf’s grasp but he discovered while lithe and soft-looking, elves were stronger than they appeared.

“Let go!”

Thranduil lowered his face to Thorin shaking his head slowly, “Your sister and my Captain are making it possible for our people to leave the mountain, but they need a leader, Prince Thorin.”

“King Thrór…”

“It is nowhere to be seen nor is your father.”

Thorin shot the elf a dark look, his body tensing up while his heart dropped. He had seen them. They were running after Thorin, Thorin heard his father called out to him before disappearing down the hall leading to the East wing and the astrology tower. They left and Thorin decided to face the danger, he saw in those eyes what he feared to admit. 

There was no triumph or gloat in those elven features, instead Thorin saw resolution. 

“I can buy you and my people time. My son is out there trying to create a distraction, I need to go back.”

“Let me help,” Thorin spoke hastily, the elf shook his head. 

“Against this evil there is naught we can do.”

“Then, let me help! I’m not child, I’m a Prince of Erebor, King Thranduil,” Thorin grasped his sword stepping forward.

Thranduil hesitated; the sound of destruction overwhelmed the palace as the flames grew around them. The Elven-King saw in Thorin the innocence of youth, a Prince that had not seen battle and yet, was ready to do what his father and grandfather had failed to do.

Thorin scrunched when another heavy explosion tore away a section of the palace, his eyes found the sight of mane soldiers falling under the crushing weight of the dragon. Smaug kept on moving further into the mountain. Fire erupted from the dragon again, the voice of Smaug rose in the midst of the chaos. 

“Flies and lice, nothing you can do against Smaug the Terrible,” it was obvious the dragon was getting tired of his own games, he glared to those who still lifted spears and swords against him. “You will do better to surrender to my will.”

“There is no time…” Thorin started and Thranduil gave him a nod.

“Then, let’s make the best of what we have, he is already far to gone into the mountain,” Thranduil explained turning Thorin to those ballista ready to fire but with no soldiers to do so. “We need to be fast, Prince Thorin, for this last stance needs to give us time to get to the gates. The last time I saw them, your people was already leaving the mountain.”

“You mea…” Whatever flicker of hope Thorin felt at such words were cut by the sight of Smaug speaking softly to some of the dwarven warriors, many dropped their weapons as if stopped by an enchantment before the jaws of the dragon opened and, in a single snapped swallowed them down.

“NO!”

For the third time the elf stopped Thorin, his eyes gleaming with a fire Thorin never thought possible, “There is naught you can do! Do as I say and many more can be saved!”

Thorin clenched his jaw looking away before running towards the ballistae sheathing his sword, sweat rolled down his forehead as his body ached in protest at the effort he was making. He saw out of the corner of his eyes as King Thranduil moved fast through the columns, his bow at the ready. Thorin stood on the first ballista fixing the mechanism, watching as only a few dwarves were left fought in between the debris, his eyes could see his brother far in the distance with Prince Legolas still trying to get a good shot at the dragon.

Thorin spurred into action, getting the weapon ready though he soon stopped death on his tracks as amber eyes fell upon him. A terror like no other took over him, his hands trembled above the trigger but he was incapable of moving, the dragon smirked maliciously leaning in.

Two different arrows came to his muzzled, his nostrils flared as he turned his attention to the two elves that were still standing. 

“Oh, elf King, how I wish to consume you in flames, you have fought valiantly,” the dragon chuckled leaning in approaching the elf King. “But, it will not save you or this Dwarven Prince.”

Later on, when the dwarves and elves sang about this moment, many would praise the quick action of the Elven-King and the Elven-Prince; many would praise the valiant efforts of the Dwarven-Princes, and many would mourn this moment for the loss of lives. It was a moment in which several things happened.

Thorin broke away from the enchantment, his hands pressing the trigger that sent an arrow made of silver, iron and copper lying towards the dragon’s neck. While this arrow did not penetrated the hardened skin of Smaug, the force in which was lunched was enough to hit him painfully and dragged his attention to the dwarf, flames came from his mouth until he felt an arrow piercing through his amber eye tearing away a scream of unbelievable pain.

Cheers of triumph erupted from the few dwarves on the rear-guard of the dragon; Legolas was standing still, his face a pure mask of concentration and incredulity, his bow still on his hand. Smaug shriek in pain turning violently on his rear paws breathing fire towards his attackers.

“LEGOLAS!”

Thranduil did not see what happened afterwards, for the ceiling above them fell down, the threshold and the iron gates protecting the Royal Palace felt under the melting force of dragon’s fire.

The scream from his father came from far away, Legolas tried to see something, anything, but even with his elven eyes he could not see beyond the destruction the attack from Smaug had create.

“I’m fine!” Legolas tried to reassure his father, but the smoke from the fires soon reached him out the screams of the people of Erebor drowning his voice.

Legolas was about to move forward when a hand wrapped around his biceps putting him back, a piece of stone falling where he had been moments ago. He turned to see the youngest Durin with blood and dirt on his face and clothes.

“Let’s…let’s move…” The dwarf mumbled Legolas stood rather fast ready to move only to see Frerin falling down; he caught the dwarf who seemed to be wounded.

The elf felt his tension building up in his body, his hands trembling as they held the fallen Prince. Tears poured in his eyes being it for the smoke or the rampage emotions going through his soul, he was not certain. He turned to see as Smaug concentrated his rage on those poor souls trying to leave while giving his back to the gates and moving forth to the palace. Legolas hesitated for a moment, a part of him did not care if the dwarf died for his father was in danger but then another part of him was not as cruel as to leave Frerin behind. He had saved Legolas after all.

“Legolas.” Tauriel's voice broke his momentary stillness; he turned to see her approach with worry on her face. “Where is King Thranduil?”

“He is fighting the dragon.” Legolas said, dry throat making it impossible for him to say anything else. “But, he is…”

Legolas pointed to the flames and stone, the melted iron gates and Tauriel clenched her jaw in pain and resolution. Tauriel saw the dwarf on her friend’s arms, she pursed her lips turning her stare where the dragon was still engaged in his rampant destruction. She knelt down to grab Frerin in her arms.

“We could open a small passage, people are getting desperate to leave,” Tauriel grabbed Frerin shooting Legolas a hesitant stare. “You can go…”

But, whatever else she was going to say was drowned by the sheer shriek of pure pain and agony from the dragon. The earth trembled with rumble falling above their heads, both elves jumped away, stepping back closer to the gates. Legolas stood up getting a clear image of the dragon’s neck twirling around, his head hitting the walls as his muzzle opened wide with exclamations of pain, blood, dark and bubbling came from his left eye. Legolas’ lips quirked upwards hope grew in between his heart as he glance the form of his father, he was still alive!

Legolas saw his father lowering his bow, those eyes gleaming with anger as he readied his sword for a prompted attack. Just like he had done moments ago, Thranduil had wounded the dragon on the same eye. Perhaps, there was still hope. 

However, just as the flame of optimism ignited inside him it was extinguished by the sight of King Thranduil stopping dead on his tracks Smaug demolishing everything around them until Legolas could see them no more. 

“ADA!” Legolas jumped right into action but, for the second time a pair of hands grabbed him from behind pulling him back before the whole section at the main hall fell upon his head. “No!”

“Legolas!” Tauriel, with the help of others dragged Legolas away from the devastation of Smaug, she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks as Legolas fought them with all he had without any success.

Help would not come and they needed to seek shelter for, if the dragon was not killed, he would surely come looking for the survivors to finish the destruction not only of Erebor and Dale but in the forest as well.

* * *

Thorin found himself on the ground, under some debris left by the broken ballista. He tried to stand up on shaky legs, his eyes gown wide at the sight of so much destruction, he could see there was no longer main gate leading to the Royal Palace, nor any garden. The bodies of fallen warriors were left either burnt or half eaten or crushed under the paws of the beats.

The Dwarven- Prince stood breathing hard, wincing as his body protested under so much effort. Thorin watched as Smaug trashed around with his right eye turning a shade of red, the dragon had stretched out his body, the Halls of his forefathers crumbled like nothing under this attack. Thorin was left to the side, trembling under his own in capability to do something. _Anything._

“You dare to inflict pain upon me, elf scum,” Smaug lifted his head with his right eye looking red now, black liquid pouring from it. “I'll make you pay!”

Thorin stepped forward but he stopped death on his tracks as the form of King Thranduil moved past him. His back pulled back arms holding a great bow, hair falling on his back and those mithril eyes narrowing lightly. 

“You will not win, Smaug.”

A blood curdling shriek broke into the mountain for the second time. The drake writhed in agony, and for a brief second Thorin thought someone had inflicted upon the beast a deathly wound, but then he saw the form of the Elven-King with his bow at hand, eyes burning with anger. Soon, his bow was dismissed, replaced by a silver sword ready to strike down their enemy but…

Something curious and terrifying happened before Thorin’s eyes.

The dragon twisted his neck in such an unnatural way Thorin thought it had broken, his left eye gleamed with hatred and anger and fixated itself on the elf King and just like that, Thranduil stopped death on his tracks.

“I am tired of you and your kin’s intervention, elf,” no longer was he speaking sweet words of enchantment, but his words came with a deep animosity tainted with a dark promise of pain. “You who fought against the great Master and survived? You will soon know pain and suffering. ”

A low chuckle; Thorin felt his whole body tremble as he could not tear his eyes away from the scene. The dragon was a few feet away from the elf, but his mouth was close, so dangerously close Thorin thought he would see the death of someone he had come to respect, whereas his father and grandfather had run, the elf had faced the great serpent of the north. Thorin leaned forward, his hand gripping painfully the sword on his hand, his jaw hurting at how hard he was clenching his teeth.

He needed to do something. Anything. 

“You will pay this offence with blood and death,” Thorin watched with horror as the tongue of the beast sneaked out of his hot cavity and lapped with only the tip at the elf’s left side.

Thranduil let out an agonizing scream but otherwise he did nothing; blood and darkness covered the wound and Smaug lifted his face howling in triumph for the last creature fighting against him was now ensnared in his spell.

“I will destroy your forest, elf King,” Smaug sneaked his way around the frozen figure of the elf, Thorin shifted, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. “And I will bring your offspring to my hoard to watch as I defile you and then just then you will remember who you are as my mouth consumes your screaming princeling.”

The flames rose around them, smoke and the smell of blood and burned skin filled the enclosed space that was Erebor. Thorin would never know what made him do it; he was standing in a place where no one had taken notice of him. He could have turned around and left without a single look behind, but he could not. 

There was one last chance, one last gleam of hope he could use to safe himself and the Elven-King. He turned back; the doors were opened leading to a never ending darkness until it came to a halt leading to a golden door. Thorin’s breathing became erratic, his heart fluttered as his body trembled under the pressure of what he was about to do.

He only got one chance, one single moment.

In what seemed to be slow motion, Thorin felt the heavy wood of the elven bow in his hand, an arrow at the ready. He was not archer though he was taught how to handle the weapon; his eyes went from the Elven-King who stood with a glassy stare and blood coming from the wound on his face, the dragon still whispering sweet promises of torture and desperation. He was no hero, Thorin could admit to himself his mind was foggy while his every instinct told him to run, this was his chance to leave the mountain and escape with his life intact.

And, he almost did.

His hand lifted eyes narrowed as he aimed for the eye of the dragon, his breathing came in short fast intakes of air as sweat rolled down his face. Then, the arrow left his hand, flying swiftly until it whistled through the air, the sound calling the attention of the dragon who turned just in time to have the arrow fall on his eyebrow. 

Thorin did not think twice, he dropped the bow and took off running fast, his hand wrapping around the elf’s hand dragging him with a strength the dwarf did not know he possessed.

His height was of great advantage, they ran as Smaug straightened up breathing fire around himself. Those claws scratched the ground searching for the Prince and the King, but even in the midst of destruction Thorin knew his way around Erebor. 

The screams of fury from Smaug broke into the caverns of the mountain, his fire erupting from deep between his gut burning and heating up the surrounding area of what was once the great hall of Erebor. The beast pushed around walls and columns shouting curses Thorin heard not for he ran dragging with him a still bewitched elf.

The hall was darkened and empty; he could hear the dragon moving about the great halls. Thorin heard more yelling and he knew by them not everyone had left the mountain and there were dwarves hiding in the halls of Erebor. Breathing hard with his hand gripping the elf’s one Thorin knew where he could go. There was only another exist in the mountain, he turned to the elf to try and explain to him what he was thinking but the elf was unresponsive. Those silver eyes covered by a white mist as the face stood expressionless, for Thorin it seemed as if he was looking at a statue if it weren't for the blood coming from the wound on the elf’s face. 

“I smell you, Prince. You have nowhere to hide and I will enjoy it when I finally have you in my claws.”

Thorin swallowed down, “I will make sure we are out of here. I know a way. I just… Trust me.”

Thranduil did not say nor did he look as if he understood what Thorin was saying. The earth trembled; dust and small rocks fell upon them. Thorin pulled open the golden door and his eyes went wide as he saw flames coming his way. He put the elf inside closing the door behind them, pushing all his weight on it almost letting out a scream of pain as the door heated under the fire. 

There was only darkness behind the door, but Thorin did not stop there. He felt the cold hand of the Elven-King between his; running as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. The exhaustion of the day wearing him down as the palace fell before his eyes; the dragon was trying to get to them but Thorin knew this part of the mountain led directly to the Royal Mines, the place where the Arkenstone had been found. It was a place filled with different caverns and turns, used only by certain miners his grandfather usually select personally. Thorin had been there just a handful of times with his father but one of those visits, done when he had just started growing his beard, was still present in his mind. 

Thorin felt his heart on his throat, his legs aching at the effort of trotting down the stairs dragging the tall form of the elf. As he kept on going down, the sounds of destruction resounded in the mines and the mountain. Thorin did not stop to think or realized he could no longer hear the destruction happening above his head. He just knew they need to leave; Thorin squeezed the hand of the Elven-King, turning to see those eyes covered by a white mist and the face expressionless and still deep in a spellbound slumber.

“I will get us out of here, you’ll see,” Thorin spoke with trembling voice, assuring himself more so than the elf.

Thorin got to the fork in the hall; his eyes fell upon the one leading to the let above the threshold the words of warning gleamed with red.

The Dwarven-Prince smirked in triumph as he found the right corridor; he entered the dark hall turning around to celebrate until he saw the Elven-King again. He dropped his miles, his lips pursing tightly. What happened to King Thranduil? Why was he like this? Another quake shook the mountain, stones fell down again. Thorin swallowed down his thoughts about the ones who were left up on the surface suffering the anger of the dragon. Thorin grabbed the hand of the elf in his, it felt cold to the contact; he tried to see any reaction but it was as if the elf was left in a spellbound state. 

“Let's hope your people know what to do,” Thorin squeezed the hand comfortingly. “I will get us out of here and make sure we are fine. Come.”

Darkness overcame them as Thorin dragged further into the labyrinth off halls and road forks, every single one of them leading the further down and deeper into the mountain; with adrenaline running thick in his blood, Thorin had not made any attempt to stop, his feet move fast on the heavy hallway as he tried to reach the right passage to an exit few knew about.

With so much darkness, Thorin had forgotten a single detail.

It was something he could barely remember for he had been but a lad distracted by the tales of Moria as his father led the way deep into the mines. However, when he came right in front of the stairs his foot found no ground and, since h had been running non-stop, he could not halt the elf that came crashed against him pushing him further into the nothingness.

Thorin opened his eyes wide as he fell, the elf right above him, their hands still joined as the darkness swallowed them down. The last conscious thought on Thorin’s mind was that, in the end, they could not escape death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter.  
> I always thought how much destruction could Smaug do if he had the same ability as Glaurung and in this chapter I only used it to render Thranduil helpless. I never entertained the idea of them defeating Smaug but...well, the eye may be a weak spot, not enough to kill him but enough to make him mad and to hurt him a little.  
> So, hope you like it and don't forget to comment or ask me anything else if you want.  
> Thank you for reading!


	3. The Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are really the best!  
> Thank you so much!  
> Here is the new chapter,please do remember English is not my mother tongue so forgive the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes you may find in here.  
> Enjoy the reading!

**Chapter 3**

**The Loss**

When Thorin had started growing his beard, Prince Thráin took him to see the mines.

It had been a sight to behold, gold and silver veins decorated the walls of the mountain, the sound of hammer and pickaxes resounding on the mine. Thorin saw the workers, all of them stopping their work to bow down to their Princes before continuing with their labour; Thorin had been marvelled at the sight of copper and iron being worked at the forges as his father explained the process of metalworking and the mining of precious gems and materials. Thorin had been an avid learner, he asked whenever he did not understand the process or whenever he found something that caught his curiosity. In was in this visit, he learnt about a secret passage; it wasn’t supposed to be a secret for too long, according to his father King Thrór had decided to expand his trading routes and this include opening a side gate they could use for such a purpose.

It never happened, though.

His grandfather started changing, and soon he asked his son to seal off all other caverns that were not the Royal Mines or the working mines as their efforts should be directed to make them richer and powerful. Thus, this part of the mountain lied forgotten, until now.

Thorin was glancing at the gleaming ceiling above his head; several worms forming a constellation of luminescent path had grown after the dwarves stopped all work in this part of the mountain. It was a beautiful sight, with blue and silver lights above their heads just as the sound of a subterranean river made echo in the walls of the cavern. Thorin sighed as he squeezed the hand holding his; he had made it to the shores of the river with the Elven-King who was now in a deep slumber. Or unconscious after the fall.

Thorin turned to his right; his eyes fell upon the face of the King who was still holding a nasty wound on his left cheek. In that moment, all the memories came to him as he no longer had the strength to keep any thoughts at bay. He saw the fire consuming his home, the screams of his people resounding in his ears, the sight of Erebor falling as the dragon consume everything.

The dwarf clenched his teeth, tears rolling down his cheeks as his blue eyes set upon the unconscious form of the Elven-King. Everything was lost and Thorin could not bring himself to let go of the only thing that seemed solid and real at the moment.

For a brief moment, terror sparked inside his mind as he remembered the almost catatonic state Thranduil had been in. He remembered those eyes covered by a white mist, the unresponsive behaviour of the elf; with some difficulty, Thorin sat up his hand never leaving the one of the elf.

A cold shiver went through Thorin’s body; his eyes saw the pale form of the elf with his left cheek showing the signs of the wound inflicted by Smaug. With panic rising in his chest, Thorin straightened up kneeling in front of the elf; soon he found himself examining the unconscious frame of the elf. His blue eyes took on a deep examination; it went from the dishevelled hair down to his sharp features with those thick eyebrows and soft lips. The nasty wound that seemed to be healing already did nothing to stain the beauty of the Eldar, the soft light Thorin had seen back in the Throne Room was here, though less brighter than it had been.

Thorin lifted his hand placing it softly on the elf’s chest, he shifted uncomfortably for he did not want his touches to become intrusive but he just needed to know.

“Please,” the silent plea left his lips as he observed the still form of the elf.

He was no healer, and at the moment he cursed his arrogance for believing Oín would always be by his side to save him from such nuisance. He was a warrior not a healer, he had said to his tutor and thus they had never dwelt too much in the topic of healing wounds.

“Please, don’t die,” Thorin whispered and, after a while relief washed over him, he could feel the beating heart of the Elven-King, the chest rose slowly up and down.

The Elven-King was alive, if unconscious.

Thorin lowered his head and, for the first time since the day had begun his soul crumbled under the sheer intensity of the emotions he had bottled up until now. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his fist closed around the elven robes while he bit the inside of his cheeks to prevent any sob from leaving his mouth.

He had lost everything!

Everything!

He was trapped deep inside the mountain, no news about his family or friends, no way to know what had happened to the inhabitants of Erebor that might have escaped the rage of the dragon. Thorin was covered in darkness just as he tried to not lose the only person that seemed to be holding his sanity together; he let out a sob mixed with a chuckle, the irony was not missed on him. To think him, the Prince of Erebor, was holding onto the Elven-King when a few days ago his father had told him the elves were the ones who would bow down to them. The elves were in a deal they could not refuse and they would serve Erebor whether they liked it or not.

Thorin did not notice how long he sat there with his hands closed tightly around elven robes holding onto the elf for sanity and comfort. It was the cold that broke his stillness, his body started trembling uncontrollably as his teeth chattered against his will, his jaw was hurting from the effort to keep them still. Thorin jerked awake into action, he knew he needed to get rid of his clothes or he could come down with something; as his hands made quick work on the short surcoat, breeches, boots, shirt and weapons, Thorin took the time to examine the cavern they were in.

The stairs they were supposed to use to get down to the ground level were carved into the mountain, Thorin saw the height had not been great and he did have to thank the fact they went straight ahead into the river. The waters were deep and cold and while it did hurt to fall upon them, it didn’t kill them. Thorin glanced around knowing fiull well certain things had changed since the last time he was there, the terrain had been work to clear up the path between the river and the passageway leading to the different chambers ahead of them. He glanced around admiring the worms on the ceiling, how the produced a light of their own making it look as a night sky while also showing the way deeper into the caverns.

Thorin started following the gleaming path and after almost twenty minutes he found what he was looking for.

It was a small workers room, a placed built into the mountain for the workers to have some rest during the long working hours. It usually was built in a more seclude way so it wouldn’t interrupted the passing of other dwarves into the other chambers. Besides, like this it could be easily sealed once the work had been completed.

Thorin entered the room making a face, it smelt like weird but Thorin couldn’t pinpoint the source of the smell. Shaking away his discomfort, he set to work on a small fire, breaking away a couple of chairs and putting it together. There was no bed, but a simple mattress made of feathers and furs; Thorin made a face for he was not quite sure how comfortable or even fitting was for them to use it. He discarded the idea of the mattress and turned to the fire he was making happy to have something to distract himself with.

Thirty minutes later Thorin had scattered around the room his clothes to get them dry, he returned to the river, the still unconscious form of the elf resting peacefully. With some hesitation, the Dwarven-Prince approached the Elven-King pursing his lips as he wondered just how to carry the other male; he knew he was strong enough to do so but…with a heavy sigh, Thorin placed one hand under Thranduil’s neck putting him up until the head of the elf rested in on his shoulder, Thorin shivered feeling the warm breath touched his skin, his other hand moved down until he passed it under the elf’s knees.

Thorin thanked the heavens they were alone. He did have the strength to carry him, but the height from the elf was way too large for this to look anything but comic, a snort left his lips as he thought what Dwalin or Balin would say if there were to see him like this. As soon as this thought appeared on his mind, Thorin clenched his jaw. He was not even sure they had escaped.

Thorin placed the elf on the floor near the fire, he made sure to take off the light shoes and the robe from the elf to let it dry along with his clothes. The only sword he still had with him was placed carefully right beside Thorin’s sword and axe. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Thorin sat resting his back against the wall leading to the door; he was no longer trembling from the cold but was getting warmer inside the room. Thorin lifted his face, in between the flames, he saw the still unconscious form of the elf who seemed unaware of what was happening around; Thorin clenched his jaw for soon the screams of fallen dwarves and the laughter of the dragon came back. The memories hunted him, he clenched his jaw standing up and moving closer to the elf giving his back to the fire.

He did not know much about elves, what little he had read was mostly tainted with prejudices and tales Thorin was not sure he should believe completely; however, he did not think this unconscious state was normal. The young Prince allowed himself a closer examination of the other male, he was still breathing and the wound on his face seemed to be healing. The water had washed away most of the blood and dirt, but it was still pouring and pulsating, at the moment he was just sleeping peacefully.

The silence in the cave was only interrupted by the crackling coming from the fire, the flames danced around in his eyes Thorin felt the stillness of the world around himself, the face of Smaug smiling mockingly at him as the Halls of his forefathers crumbled under his feet. Thorin clenched his teeth for he could hear the mocking voice of the dragon, his words of ruin and his promises of torture; whatever he had done to the elf, it certainly was something Thorin wished to never experience because he rendered the King useless. For the first time ever since he grabbed Thranduil’s hand and run away with him, Thorin wondered if the Elven-King would be fine.

What if…

What if he never woke up? What if he woke up only to be the same catatonic creature Thorin had dragged away from Smaug?

Panic rose in his mind, his eyes completely focused on the sleeping elf just as he shifted closer to him. Thorin stretched his trembling hand but stopped before he could touch the Elven-King. He swallowed down his fears, a feeling of inadequacy started growing inside him at how much of a weakling he was.

This kind of behaviour was not suitable for someone of his position; he was a Dwarven-Prince, an Heir of Durín. His father and grandfather would be ashamed of his behaviour and reaction. Never mind his father and grandfather had all but disappeared after the attack from Smaug. Thorin was experiencing such a myriad of emotions at the moment, he felt ashamed at having run from the fight, panic for the thought of having lost the Elven-King, rage at his father and grandfather and an intense hatred for the creature that had come to take away from him everything.

Thorin sat there for a long time; he didn’t even notice when the tears started rolling down his cheeks or when he stopped feeling cold. He glanced at the fire with the faces of his siblings, his father and his grandfather, his people…he could not shake the memory of the screams asking for help or suffering through a horrible death. He could not forget the jaws of Smaug devouring dwarves or crushing them under his claws.

Erebor was lost.

Without giving it a second thought, Thorin laid down right beside the Elven-King, his hand wrapping tightly around the elf’s one. A few minutes later, Thorin had fallen into a restless sleep, the flames of the small fire playing in his head just as he tightened her hold on King Thranduil’s hand.

* * *

He fluttered his eyes open.

At first he was not aware of what was really happening around him, his mind was a pool of many confusing thoughts with images moving too fast for him to grasp any meaning or to recognize any of them. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared everything stopped and he realized he was sitting down in a room lighted up by a fire burning in the room.

His breathing came in short pants while his right hand placed itself on his face. His eyes were getting use to the light, the blurry vision clearing out as he finally heard the running water and soft snores to his side. He tensed completely, turning his head to the sourced of the snoring; he saw a naked dwarf resting on his right side their hands joined in a simple grasp. His eyes went wide but he made not an attempt to move his hand away, he merely tilted his hand while his eyes studied the sleeping from of the dwarf beside him. His eyes went from the dark hair, to the two braids adorning his left side, a growing beard covering the strong jaw and prominent nose. It was a young face, handsome and carved with nobility; he furrowed his brows for there was something familiar about the dwarf but, when he was about to look for a name, nothing came.

In fact, as he tried to recollect any memories of how he ended up there or where exactly was he, nothing came. There was another snore coming from the dwarf, he glanced down with a flash of blue eyes, light scowl and regal bearing crossing his mind.

This time around, he did let go of the hand he was holding.

Where was he?

What happened?

Why was the dwarf almost naked and why was he half naked?

He could not help but notice the light loincloth covering the dwarf’s crotch, nor the fact he had been half naked on the ground with a sore body. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the growing warm around his cheeks or the sudden thoughts invading his mind. He really should not think any of this. Not at the moment when there were some important matters to consider first.

The light of the fire flickered around the room, soon his eyes found a fine robe with silver and green around it. With a silent command, he stood up on shaky legs, whatever discomfort he felt on his muscles or bones was soon soothed away by this activity. He did a quick examination of his body, his muscles tensed and stretched just fine his eyes could see the smallest details in the room just as his ears twitched to catch the sounds of the room and the place he was in. Soon, he turned his attention to his hands, his eyes observed those long delicate fingers moving them around, just as he was about to touch his face he noticed his left side hurt.

A wound.

How had he hurt himself?

Was this one of the reasons why he woke up sore?

He furrowed his brows for he realized, while initially his body ached in discomfort, he no longer experienced any pain. And he knew, right then and there, he was an elf, a Firstborn and, as such, he did not experience sickness or wounds the same way mortals did.

That much he knew, at least.

He furrowed his brows as his eyes fell upon an elvish blade and a princeling circlet, he glanced to the clothes scattered around the floor. Boots of fine leather, along with breeches and linen shirt, a surcoat with blue and silver decorated in the dwarven style of the royal family; then his eyes flickered towards the sword and the axe right beside the elven sword.

He made his way to the silver robe, kneeling down he grabbed the garment amazed by the softness and the skill used to make it. He tried it on finding it was a perfect fit to his body, his fingers worked fast on the buttons and the wrinkles around the garment. He looked down at himself, everything fit and yet he could not recall why he had been using such clothing. He returned his attention to the weapons on the ground; knitting his brows together he lifted his stare to the dwarf.

He did look like a warrior, those hands felt strong and firm around his while his commanding voice spoke reassuringly at him.

The elf tensed up.

How did he know that?

His memory shifted with grey images of a hand grabbing his, deep commanding voice expressive blue eyes. A blue that resembled the deepest part of the sea or a sky in a warm, cloudless afternoon of summer.

Who was he? Why were they running?

“ _I will make sure we are out of here_ ”

_“Trust me.”_

But, he was a dwarf!

He remembered that much, but as he tried to move past the wall of thick mist inside his mind, there was nothing much he could recollect. While he stood there, his heart flickered restlessly, his fist clenched tightly just as his eyes moved swiftly from one place to another. He could not see beyond the thick fog on his mind, whatever traces of memory he could see where filled with fore and steel, a burning forest and army of dwarven warriors with heavy axes dripping blood. He clenched his jaw as a single name sneaked inside his mind. Menegroth.

Then, as soon as the memory had come it vanished leaving him with an empty sensation of what it meant. For, even as he played with the name in his mind and tongue, he felt nothing but puzzlement under the name.

In that moment whatever sense of control or aloofness crumbled before his eyes, his body trembled just as his fists clenched tightly to his sides. His mind that moments ago had worked swiftly on his surrounding came to a halt, it searched through what little he held in his memory but his name or where he was or even what he was doing with a dwarf was nowhere to be found. He went over the few things he seemed to recognize, he knew he was an elf, Firstborn, his companion was a dwarf, he was in a cave. Menegroth.

But, who was he?

His name, his title…who was he?

The elf started pacing furrowing his brows as he tried harder, the name became clearer just as the image of the forest in flames came back. Elves running, dwarves holding swords and axes, Menegroth was the name of this place. An elven city that fell to dwarves. How did he know this? He stood right in front of the entrance of the room, images of golden spears and bright armours, the sound of horns and music.

Then, nothing.

How could it be possible? His eyes went back to the circlet and the sword; they were of great quality meant for someone of high status. Who was he? Was he a…Prince?

The darkness around him grew, the temperature dropped just as he experienced fear and desperation. What happened?

There was a soft grunt in the far edge of the cavern, the fire crackled and the flames danced around. The elf turned sharp, silver eyes to the only one who might have some answers; his resolution to demand them crumbled under the lost stare coming from the other male. The dwarf had waked up.

_“Trust me.”_

Could he really trust a dwarf?

The elf tilted his head examining the dwarf, something inside his mind shifted lightly in recognition but he could not recall any name. He just _knew_ him, those eyes the same eyes he had imagined when he first saw the sleeping male. He was brought back from his contemplation by those eyes finding his, there was a light of relief there but the dwarf did not smile he just stretched some before standing up.

“I’m glad to see you are awake, King Thranduil.”

Thranduil tensed completely, the name and title came rolling out of those lips and tongue as courtesy though there was some detachment in its usage. A lack of familiarity. The elf tasted the name in his mind, but he came back blank not a single sign of recognition.

Thorin had not noticed the strange behaviour from the elf, not that he would have noticed it in any other circumstances. For all his tormenting thoughts, Thranduil was still an elf in nature, and his face reflected the guarded expression wore by the Eldar. The dwarf did not expect an answer, nor did he expect much conversation for they barely knew one another. Still, he could not deny the glimpse of joy and hopefulness in his heart; it seemed the elf was no longer in the shadows of unconsciousness. Perhaps, now that the both of they were awake they could work a way out of the mountain and back to their people.

“How long was I…gone?”

Thorin furrowed his brows turning to the elf who suddenly was glancing at him with curious silver eyes; the dwarf pursed his lips as he made way to his clothes.

“I believed a couple of hours, I could not say for I too fell asleep,” Thorin found his breeches, already dry and ready to be worn. “The day was long, and I’m ashamed to confess I thought you gone.”

There was no sense in hiding this fact, Thorin had really been afraid for what would he tell the elves if their King died of an unknown spell? Who was to say they would not blame him? Thorin knew the meeting with King Thrór had not gone overly well, he still remembered the angry stare the elf shot him moments before the attack.

“Gone? What do you mean?”

This time around Thorin did turn sharply, he had his breeches around his thighs and his eyes went towards the Elven-King who, curiously enough, had turned away a light pinkish tone adorning his cheeks.

“You were in a deep state of slumber, I could not wake you but you let yourself be guided out of harm’s way, ” Thorin trailed off tilting his head, his eyes narrowed when he realized the elf was standing right in front of him with a strange glint in his eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

Thorin almost regretted his question since the withering glance the elf shot his way made him shifted uncomfortably. He was about to add something else when the Thranduil spoke, and this time around Thorin found himself facing a new predicament.

“I do not,” the confession was said with a soft voice, Thranduil turned sharply around as if to hide his forgetfulness.

The dwarf put on his boots and shirt, his surcoat followed swift as he started grabbing his weapons.

“Well, I guess it’s normal, though I am not familiar with the magic behind a dragon such as…”

“Dragon?” The King’s voice trembled slightly, his eyes denoted the sudden _fear_ Thorin had not seen a few hours ago.

Right then, Thorin knew something was wrong.

Thorin would never say he was knowledgably about elves; he most certainly had enough dealings with them to know they were odd. However, he had always been a pretty good judge of character and, what Thorin could say was the Elven-King would never allow such an emotion reflected in his features. Even when he saw anger, Thorin realized the elf was completely collected and detached, as if the anger was a minor trouble he soon could get rid of. Now, he seemed _different_.

“My Lord,” Thorin started with his best diplomatic tone. “Is there something the matter? You seem rather shaken, are sure you are alright?”

Thorin approached these questions tactfully; he waited a little impatiently for the other male to answer though Thranduil seemed rather eager to avoid him or his questions since he seemed incapable of looking at him. Thorin was getting impatient; he had already rested and the grief he carried between himself needed to wait for they needed to really leave the mountain and find out what had happened to his family and his people. And, wasn’t Legolas also out there waiting for his father? Did Thranduil think about this at all?

The Dwarven-Prince was about to speak again but stopped as those silver eyes found his, the elf held himself with some hesitation his hair falling down to the side as the King tilted his head. Silence grew between them, but Thorin dared not to break if for he could sense there was conflict in the King’s mind.

“I seemed to have a blurry memory of what happened before I awoke in this place,” it was a simple explanation, Thranduil revealed enough for the dwarf to fill in the blank spaces but not enough to know what was really happening to him. “I feel a little disgruntled at finding myself in such a situation, and putting you on this predicament.”

Thorin waited to see if there was more the elf wanted to say but when nothing came, Thorin merely looked away. For some reason, Thranduil looked away biting on his lower lip, he faced Thorin again but the dwarf was distracted and Thranduil knew he could not say anything else at the moment. A part of him reproached him his silence, the part that saw familiarity in the dwarf standing before him the one that had saved his life from a dragon, apparently.

Thranduil opened his mouth to say something but Thorin shot him a sympathetic glance, his lips curling up in a sad smile. Those rough features softened and Thranduil’s heart fluttered at the sight, he closed his mouth offering half smile.

“I apologise if I may seem hasty, or insensitive to you it was not my intention,” Thorin scratched the back of his head shrugging, “but we do not have the time to weep for what was. My people and yours are waiting for us, and we need to leave this place.”

“Of course, I do not expect danger would wait for us to get over this,” Thranduil tilted his head in acknowledgement, the guilt growing in him sat on his heart as the dwarf lifted the elven sword and circlet handling it to him.

Their fingers touched, Thranduil flickered his eyes to the dwarf’s face but the other male was highly distracted.

“I think we better get moving then, the path is a long one though the fall may have shortened it by a long stretch.”

With heavy footsteps, the dwarf put out the fire nodding towards exit.

“By all means, Master dwarf, lead the way.”

Thorin shifted strangely, he shot the elf one last glance before taking the lead. Thranduil followed swiftly, relief washing over his features; perhaps his memory would come back and there wouldn’t be any need for him to tell the dwarf more than he had to. The narrow opening spread before them in a deep darkness, the sound of the water diminishing as they walk towards an exit.

* * *

It could count as hours but Thranduil was not quite sure how long they had been walking down the long passageway.

At first, he had been distracted by the worms on the ceiling of the cave; each one of them emitted a bluish light with thin webs surrounding them in silver light. It reminded him of the stars, bringing to his face a quirk of the lips as his mind brought the image of a dark sky filled with glinting lights.

Once he had satiated his curiosity with the strange creatures, his attention turned to the passageway itself. He realized this part of the mountain was nature’s work, there was no other indication this place had been worked by dwarves or any other living creature; a sudden wave of yearning awoke on his heart. He stopped for a moment, his hand caressing the wall with eyes looking beyond stone to find itself facing a blackness he did not think possible.

The weight of his last memory settled in heavy on his mind and soul, as everything he saw and everything he experienced seemed familiar yet unknown. He could not grasp that particular moment in which he had seen stone or his sword, nor the moment in which flames had surrendered the place he called home, he could not even pinpoint when and where Menegroth was.

He jumped startle as a hand close softly around his forearm, turning around he saw as Thorin took his hand away furrowing his brows while straightened up.

“Are you alright? You seem highly distracted.”

For the second time, Thranduil felt an urge to tell the dwarf about his troubling thoughts and his predicament. He saw the concern there, but also impatience for Thranduil seemed to have stopped all of a sudden. The elf opened his mouth only to close it again shaking his head.

“I have never been in such a place before, I found myself highly distracted by the sheer beauty of your caverns,” then he lowered his face as if _embarrassed_ which struck Thorin as strange. “I know this may not be the right time, so I do apologise, Master dwarf, if you lead I will follow.”

Now, that was strange.

Thorin could not help but stand there eyeing the elf with a glint of mistrust showing on his blue eyes, this whole situation was strange as it was going to get, but this sudden compliance from the elf King was _odd_. For the very first time, since the elf woke up, Thorin thought there was something King Thranduil was not telling him; Thorin entertained the idea to keep asking about the elf’s mood but in the end decided against it he decided to write it off as part of the whole situation, this could not be easier on Thranduil that it was on him. And Thorin had not fallen for any trick of the dragon or have some part of his memory foggy around the subject.

“Very well, let’s continue.”

The silence consumed them, Thorin would move forward, his mind set on going out of the mountain and looking for the survivors while Thranduil was trying to hold onto his own pride and uncertainty while looking for an answer, in his heart he knew would not come from himself.

*****

Thorin clenched his jaw holding back his growl when, for the tenth time, the Elven-King decided to speak. Whatever sympathy he felt for the elf was soon forgotten as soon as the elf decided to question his sense of direction or his knowledge of the mountain.

“This little detour would be easier if you admit we are lost,” Thranduil leaned back against the closest wall, his eyes piercing the dwarf with exasperation while Thorin merely crossed his arms shooting daggers at him.

“We are not lost,” Thorin spat out through gritted teeth, ever since they left the passageway and came into a great gallery the elf had done nothing but complain. “I already told you, I’ve been here before.”

“When you were but a dwarfling,” Thranduil rolled his eyes. “It was obvious your attention was somewhere else instead of the road ahead of you.”

“I was paying attention!” Thorin exclaimed, hitting his chest. “But father had been working on these parts and some things did change with time.”

Thranduil snorted tilting his head to the side, his decision to not reveal the dwarf anything about his memory had been corrected. He might seem familiar, but smart he was not; he thought the dwarf was part of the Royal family for the quality of his clothes and weapons but now that he got to see and interact with him, Thranduil was starting to think perhaps he was but the son of a chamberlain, or some low noble.

Thorin took a deep breath, his nostrils widened as he tried to get his temper in control. He turned around walking down the main gallery to the set of tunnels spreading in different directions. His eyes and hands started running over the stone and ground searching for some kind of signal.

Darkness consumed the place, they had left the path made by the luminescent worms and now they were in a completely different kind of gallery. While the previous ones had some kind of humidity, and the temperature would vary this particular chamber was warmer. Thorin glanced around the chamber pursing his lips, for this part really had changed a lot, it was obvious his father had started some kind of work before the King had ordered them to seal all the openings in the mountain.

Thorin shifted to the side, looking at the elf out of the corner of his eyes. Thranduil was standing on the same spot he had left him. The Elven-King was resting against the wall, his eyes admiring the ceiling wearing a frown on his forehead. The wound almost healed, Thorin swallowed down as he realized how peculiar their situation was and yet, how calm the other male was. For all he had heard, he thought perhaps the cold and collected Elven-King would have tried to take over this quest without leaving Thorin any said in the matter.

Thranduil lowered his head and Thorin looked away when he realized he had been looking more than he should. The dwarf returned his attention to the gallery and the different caverns opening before his eyes.

Dwarves’ eyes were used to such darkness, and while their eyes were not as keen as those of the elves, they did see fine in such blackness. Thorin sighed ignoring the elf for as much as he could; a part of him did understand King Thranduil, it wouldn’t be easier to be trapped in a mountain to someone you barely knew and that represented some kind of unpleasant treaty. Thorin shook his head, really he hoped this was of some kind of revenge for whatever his grandfather had done to the other King.

“Perhaps this can help?”

Thorin jerked away startle, his eyes wide open as he realized King Thranduil had approached him without him noticing at all. The hand of the elf was still placed on his shoulder.

“What…” Thorin scowled as the elf seemed to draw into a tiny smile of amusement, “King Thranduil, do you make it a custom to sneak around and startle leaders from other lands?”

Thranduil lifted his chin though his amusement was quite evident, “I was not expecting such a reaction. You did tell me dwarven senses were sharp when deep into the mountains.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes crossing his arms while trying to get his growing embarrassment at bay, “I was not expecting elves to be this… _sneaky._ ”

“Sneaky?” Thranduil lowered his eyes narrowing his eyes at the dwarf, “Again, have I known your sharp senses were as good as your sense of direction, I would have stomped as you dwarves are accustomed to do so.”

Thorin went to reply but the elf merely sneered down at him, for some unknown reason, Thorin got the feeling the elf was looking _hurt_. Thranduil pressed something against his chest looking away.

“I found this, thought your _keen_ eyes may need it.”

Thranduil walked away leaving a confused Thorin behind, the dwarf felt with his hands and his eyes opened wide as he realized it was an old lamp. He glanced at the lamp then at the retreating form of the King, he opened his mouth then closed it shaking his head while lighting up the candle inside it. After a few tries the candle was giving a faint light, Thorin placed it inside the lamp closing the glass door and smiling widely for now the lamp was giving a good light.

Thorin turned to the elf but his smile dropped when he realized Thranduil was deep in thought, his gaze to the ceiling above their heads.

“Thank you,” Thorin’s voice was carried by the echo of the room; Thranduil tilted his head but otherwise didn’t seem to acknowledge the dwarf.

Just as Thorin was about to return to his task, his eyes caught something he had not seen before. He lifted the lamp on his hand walking towards the set of stones placed above the ground; it was done manually for the ground showed they had been dragged a long distance. They were placed one in front of the other following a zigzag path with just enough space for one person to go in, Thorin tilted his head touching the stone before daring to move further.

Thranduil waited patiently, he could still see flashes of light from the place where Thorin had disappeared.

“I think I found it!”

The voice was excited, Thranduil perked up too see Thorin coming forward this time around the light from the lamp lit him directly. Thorin had a satisfied smile; his eyes gleamed with triumph as he focused on the elf. Thranduil could not help but think it looked good on the dwarf.

“It seems instead of sealing it off, father merely placed a set of heavy stones in front of the entrance,” Thorin nodded towards them. “It’s a little tight, but I think we can go there, King Thranduil.”

“And then?” Thranduil finally inquired, he realized Thorin had not thought beyond this part and the dwarf shot him a glance as if expecting the elf had the answers.

“This is a tunnel that leads to the far east mountainside,” Thorin shrugged, “we can set our way to Iron Hills, my kin…”

Thranduil tensed completely scowling openly at the suggestion, “Your kin may not be as welcoming as you think, more so if a dragon hangs above your head.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thorin lifted his chin in defiance; he did not like where the conversation was going.

“Who is to say Iron Hills will be welcoming of you if they know a dragon has taken your home?” Thranduil added simply stepping away from the wall he had been resting on.

Thorin opened his mouth to say something but found himself incapable of doing so; he followed with his eyes the form of the elf who was giving his back to the dwarf. Thranduil did have a point, and Thorin hated the damn elf might be right. If word about them losing their home had already travelled so far, Dain could be reluctant to extend any kind of help. Besides, who was to say the dragon had not made sure to cut off all the help they could get?

The truth was, neither Thranduil nor Thorin knew what had happened and so far, they were happy to be looking for a way out of the mountain instead of wondering what would happen afterwards.

“Then, my Lord, what do you suggest?”

The question caught Thranduil by surprise, he tilted his head and for the second time Thorin saw doubt gleaming in those silver eyes. There was a long silence after his question, Thorin watched carefully noticing how those shoulders dropped and the elf’s hands clenched tightly. This elf was so much different to the one he had seen on the Throne Hall; Thorin waited until the Thranduil set his eyes on him.

“I do not know,” it was as if each word pained him deeply, Thranduil clenched his jaw with his eyes glancing at a faraway distance.

Thorin lowered his glance, then with a tentative smile he approached the elf patting the back awkwardly.

“Good, I don’t know what to do either,” Thorin nodded towards the stones. “Let’s get out of here, see if we can eat something and then, we can decide.”

Thranduil watched as the dwarf moved past him, he opened his mouth to say he really didn’t know. But, closed it again, the weight of Thorin’s hand ghosting on his back, with less reluctance and a glimmer of hope he followed Thorin.

The lantern helped them more than Thorin cared to admit, the road it lighted up was filled with fallen debris and forgotten tools. It seemed this part of the mountain had not been touched in a long time, but still held the working traces of the dwarves on his walls and ceiling. They walked in silence, Thorin thinking about his family and his people, wondering if anyone had survived and where they were; Thranduil was thinking about the dwarf in front of him, his only link to a past he was not capable of remembering.

The small passageway broke right in front of them expanding into a middle size gallery, where Thorin lit up tables and chairs, some forgotten tools and finally a wall where a former threshold was still present but filled with stone and some form of concrete made with mud and straws and some kind of mortar.

Thorin ran to the wall feeling it with his hand, his eyes wide opened as his breathing increased while he felt and heard the stone.

“No, no, no. NO!”

Thorin hit the stone hard, clenching his teeth when he felt his knuckles tremble in pain, this was their only exit and it was closed. Desperation started growing up inside him, he was about to hit the wall again when a cold hand closed around his wrist he turned sharply to the elf who was glancing down at him with unreadable eyes.

“Hurting yourself won’t help us.”

“They sealed this door! There is no way out!” Thorin put his hand away walking away from the elf. “These tools are useless!”

Thranduil glanced at the sealed gate then at Thorin who was pacing around; he pursed his lips not really knowing what to do.

“We are trapped in here! I am trapped with you!” Thorin pointed an accusing finger to the elf, Thranduil turned away hating the trembling on his heart.

It was not easy to hear those words from the only person he remembered clearly. The dwarf growled in frustration, pacing around as he thought of a way out. King Thranduil glanced at the sealed date, it seemed they had done a good job by sealing it away; he moved closer watching some form of writing above it.

“What does it say?” Thranduil turned to Thorin and stopped his passing, he grunted approaching the elf.

“What does it matter?”

Thranduil shrugged, “I’m just curious.”

Thorin opened his mouth to retort but decided against it, he turned to the writing in Khûzdul tilting his head while his eyes narrowed at the words. Thranduil followed the dwarf who suddenly seemed pretty interested in the writing.

“What is it?”

“It’s an old formula,” Thorin mumbled pursing his lips when he realized Thranduil was waiting for a more detailed explanation. “It roughly translates something like, the King has decided to close this space because he deemed it necessary as a protection and then goes on about his magnificence and, I don’t know it keeps mentioning a place where the King can see the reflection of Durin the Deathless.”

Just as Thorin mentioned this Thranduil made a face, his mind flashed a single image of a deep lake with waters of a deep blue. The same shade of blue Thorin’s eyes had at the moment, Thranduil played with the image in his mind just as Thorin continued with the translation. The Elven-King lowered his gaze furrowing his brows just as a name formed in between his mind.

“Look, this does not make any sense and this won't get us out of here…”

“ _Kheled-zâram.”_

Thorin froze completely, his eyes opening wide as the words left the lips of the elf who was now frowning deeply as if he had spoken something he was not meant to.

“How did you…”

Whatever Thorin was about to ask was cut short by the sound of stone moving, Thorin and Thranduil turned to the source, a thin line forming a great door on the wall at the other side started appearing slowly just as the stone seemed to move. Soon, there was fresh air coming from somewhere along the gate and Thorin watched with a fluttered of his heart as the gate opened to the outside.

He had heard about them!

Magical doors!

The doors made by their forefathers to conceal some secret entrances into the mountain. He knew his father would not abandon this job just like that; he probably planned everything to continue this whenever his grandfather felt like it.

Thorin approached the exit turning to Thranduil who, strangely enough, was behind him waiting.

“How did you know it would work?”

Thranduil furrowed his brows shaking his head, “I did not but…”

Thorin could see the hesitation behind those silver eyes, the elf was just confused. Something Thorin would never imagine from an elf, much less from the Elven-King. He merely shrugged and smiled. 

“Well, I'm glad you say it out loud, I mean we could have spent hours before realizing it was a secret gate.”

Thranduil did not say anything, while Thorin seemed to be joyful for this the Elven-King could feel himself falling into desperation. Where did he hear the name? Why did he grasp meaningless things when all he really wanted was to know who he really was? 

Thorin placed a hand on the elf, for the third time he read in the ageless face anguish he had never seen before. Not even when the King had faced the dragon. Thranduil broke his internal struggling; his hands went to the dwarf's hand then to those eyes that were glancing at him with concern. 

“Shall we go, Master Dwarf? The door won't stay open for long.”

Thorin opened his mouth but then closed it again, he shook his head pursing his lips before turning to the exit. 

“You know? You can call me by my title and my name, this Master Dwarf addressing is… Unsettling.”

“Unsettling? Do I unsettle you?”

Thorin sputtered, shaking his head turning around to hide his growing flush. Really, the things the elf said. 

“Of course not! That's absurd!”

A darkened glance crossed Thranduil's face, he pursed his lips knowing sooner or later he would need to confide in his companion. 

*****

It was late in the afternoon.

Thorin glanced at the sky above them, dark clouds hanging above their heads while an unknown valley spread before their eyes. Thorin stepped forward, he looked around the exit noticing it was placed just above the mountainside with not distinguishable road to lead anyone to this place.

He approached the edge of the cliff, down there he could see the running river coming out from the mountain, then he turned around and saw the majestic form of the Lonely Mountain above his head.

“We are far from the main gate,” he whispered with a heavy heart.

“There is nothing down there, nothing from miles,” Thranduil was now standing beside him. “But, to the south…there is blackness and fire. Nothing else.”

Thorin sighed, placing his hand on his stomach, he was hungry; he turned to the elf then back at the open gate. He approached the opening, each step weighing his soul down, with resolution he pushed the stone until the door was closed and there was not a trace that a door had been there moments ago.

The Elven-King stood at a safe distance, he examined the male in front of him noticing just how the recent events had shaped him overnight. He could see pain in those blue eyes, sadness and loneliness, Thranduil swallowed down for even if he wanted to feel the same he was not sure exactly what he had lost. What he was leaving behind.

“I will be back,” Thorin said with conviction, his fist clenched as he turned to the elf. “We will be back, and we will recover our homeland.”

Thranduil pursed his lips nodding sharply, “You will.”

Thorin approached the elf offering a half smile, “With all of this, I never get to thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“You stay behind, you save me and many others in ways I have still not comprehend completely,” Thorin pressed his right hand to his chest, bowing his head. “When others run you, King Thranduil, stay behind and I won’t forget it.”

Thranduil hesitated, he opened his mouth to say something but soon closed it again.

“I was doing my duty,” Thranduil tried to shrug it off but Thorin placed a hand around his wrist, it was a tender grasp meant only to stop him from running.

“No, you certainly could have run, I know my grandfather was not kind to you and he had offered you an impossible deal,” Thorin squeezed the wrist reassuringly. “But, I will straighten everything up. Once we are back.”

Thranduil opened his mouth but soon closed it, he nodded offering a shaky smile and Thorin soon was walking down a small set of rocks.

“We should get moving, we need to leave this hill before nightfall.”

The Elven-King closed his eyes guiltily, his heart shrank at the thought of lying to someone who had been nothing but kind to him. To someone he could not help but feel safe with; Thranduil glanced at his hand remembering how those fingers felt against his. How that hand had grasped his while running.

_“I will get us out of here, you’ll see,”_

_“I will make sure we are out of here. I know a way. I just… Trust me.”_

That voice was familiar, as if he had heard it before, in a dream. He did grasp images of past, names he knew by heart but that in reality meant nothing to him. He knew Menegroth thought he held no recollection of the place, he knew war thought he could pinpoint when or where it had taken place he remembered random names though he did not remember the stories behind them. He didn't know however why he was King, his name did nothing but pierced his very soul for he did not remember having it meant something before the dwarf said to him. 

The elf sat there contemplating the reality of what was really happening to him. Because, while all of those things meant next to nothing, the dwarf meant everything. Those blue eyes, the comfort of his presence, his voice… Everything was familiar and his memory and his heart remembered the dwarf, even if he could not recall his name. 

“Is everything alright, King Thranduil?”

Thorin trailed off for he saw the sheer desperation in that face, his heart shifted painfully at the sight of such misery Thranduil was reflecting at the moment. He approached the elf wondering just what the hell was happening, he knew there was something the elf was hiding. He wasn't an idiot, he noticed the strange behaviour, but he thought this was only because the elf was still digesting his encounter with Smaug. This tears though, the broken stare and expression of pure loss was something Thorin was not ready to face. 

“King Thranduil?”

“Don't call me that,” the words came harsh, and the elf glared at him with tears still rolling down his cheeks. “I am not… I don't…”

“What is it?”

Thorin was not used to such emotional situations; he was always protected from such scenes and was never really knowledgeable in comforting someone that was not part of his family or his friends. He had hugged Dís countless times, wiped away her tears or helped Frerin after a rough fight. But it was different, they were family and Thorin loved them with all his heart. 

The elf though, he barely knew him and while circumstances had brought them together Thorin did not feel nothing but respect for the elf King. So, when those arms wrapped around him and that face placed itself in the crock of his neck with tears wetting his skin, Thorin could do nothing more than pat the other male rather awkwardly. 

He didn't know what to say, nor was he completely sure he understood what was going on. Then, in a soft whisper everything became clear and Thorin was in front of a new set of troubles he was far too young to be facing alone. 

“Whatever happened, whatever spell the dragon worked on me…” the voice was broken filled with desperation and helplessness. “I do not have any recollection of who am I. You keep calling me King but I do not know King of what land or to what kind of people.”

Thorin tensed as Thranduil continued, his face still hidden away as he confessed with shame and desperation tingeing his voice. 

“All I see is nothingness before me, no past, no present and an uncertain future. I am incapable of recognizing the name you use to call me,” another sob as those hands clenched hard around Thorin's clothes. “And yet, all I can remember is you, even if your name also eludes my memories. And now, I am at your mercy for this world is unknown to me, and I can only recollect pieces of something I am not familiar with.”

And then, Thorin understood.

The subtle change, the fact the King was compliant and would not peak much and seemed so _odd._ Thorin glanced at the sky, the heavy clods above their heads announcing a oncoming storm Thorin was not sure he was ready to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did have to read a lot about memory loss and I know I may be missing somethings, this is primarily a memory loss caused by magic. Much like the one done by Glaurung to Níniel; however, there is a catch. As always, and while Thranduil seemed to forget things about him. he is still capable of seeing names, or pieces of history, more so if they are related to bad things, this one I got from a post on Reddit in which the spoke about elven memories, that usually is more effective when remembering bad things this is the post if you wanna check it out https: // www .reddit. com/r/tolkienfans/comments/ b8fupq/regarding_the_ memory_capacity_of_elves/
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, for the likes, the kudos and the comments. I hope you like this chapter.


	4. The Wilderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are really amazing!  
> Thank you so much for reading the story, the comments, kudos and bookmarks.  
> Now, remember English is not my mother tongue, so forgive any grammar, spelling or funny mistake. Now, let's read!

**Chapter 4**

**The wilderness**

Afternoon was advancing rather fast as they went down from the crest.

The Lonely Mountain was star-shaped and it had six ridges that radiated as spurs from the peak to the ground level. Thorin had studied the geography of his homeland from an early age, he knew what kind of minerals and gem could be commonly found in certain zones, just as he knew why they had placed the gates facing the south instead of the north. This hidden gate had taken them northeast, and they were now facing erode land, standing in the lowest part of the ridge but not yet on ground level.

By the time they go to the lowest level, the temperature had dropped and the wind was pushing at them with harsh brushes on their skin. Winter, without a doubt, had arrived. Thranduil sighed as he approached the edge of the hill, the land before him was erode and deserted, the grass grey and filled with stone-like bumps on the land. He stood there for what seemed like hours, his mind a complete turmoil of confusion his eyes glancing at nothing just as he tried to search for answers in his mind but; as it happened since he woke up, he came to an abrupt halt surrounded by a white fog, incapable of going any further.

The earth trembled under them, there was a loud roar echoing through the valley. Thranduil faced south, his elven eyes seeing the whirl of red and orange mixed up with smoke and darkness; the Elven-King furrowed his brows just as his hand went to the hilt of his sword. This disturbing sound extended for a few minutes until it stopped as abruptly as it had started; Thranduil clenched his jaw just as he looked at Thorin out of the corner of his eyes, they had been ignoring gone another ever since Thranduil had his breakdown and they reached this plateau. For this, Thranduil was thankful, his heart fluttered painfully as he remembered those blue eyes glancing at him with _pity_. He didn’t need anyone, least of all a dwarf.

Not for the first time the elf tried to get a hold of what he could remember. Fuzzy images formed in his head, the mixed up names of places he barely recognized and then…blue eyes, comforting hand and a deep voice telling him everything was going to be fine.

Thranduil turned around his eyes focusing on a group of bushes were he saw movement, a couple of rabbits trying to get some shelter as another rumbling shook the vale. Thranduil glanced at two well-feed rabbits, his stomach grumbling slightly just as he remembered neither him nor the dwarf had eaten anything since…Thranduil sighed, since he woke up. Probably longer than that; tilting his head he saw the dwarf kneeling down on the river cleaning his face and arms. The elf was decided to do nothing, if the dwarf was happy with ignoring him and pretending nothing had happened then, so could he.

Another tremor went through the mountains, Thranduil glanced to the south watching only smoke and darkness; he lowered his face watching at the rabbits, with a heavy heart he approached them. He could let the dwarf starve but Thranduil could not go on without food, he tried to convince himself this was the only reason why he would hunt for food.

There was no other reason. Not at all.

Thorin watched his reflection on the water; he saw his tired face in the ripples of the surface moved by the wind. He furrowed his brows as he made sure to clean away all the dirt and sweat from his face, arms, neck and chest; he had been good at avoiding the elf, but he knew he could not prolong the confrontation for too long. They needed to talk and then they needed to make decisions about what to do or where to go.

As the cold water of the river touched his face, Thorin had to admit he was hoping all the weight of the decisions and the resolution would fall upon the elf’s shoulders. He was a King, after all, but most importantly he was an elf which meant he had lived long enough to know these lands. These thoughts only made him felt embarrassed, he clenched his jaw as he realized he was behaving like a weakling. He was a Dwarven-Prince, he should know what to do!

But the truth was, Thorin was still learning and this was trusted upon himself without any warning.

For a moment, watching his reflection on the water made him wonder what King Thranduil must be thinking. He glanced back to see the elf seemed to be kneeling down, as if concentrated in something he had just discovered; Thorin could not blame him. If what King Thranduil had said was the truth then, he did not remember anything thus whatever he saw and experience, even if he identified them, must be completely new for him. Thorin imagined what would be like to just not remember who you were or where you were or nothing at all and then find yourself at the mercy of a stranger.

Thorin stood up resolution gleaming in his eyes, he knew it would feel horrible and he would hope for the stranger to be trustworthy because in a sense they would have power over you. Thorin shook his head, whatever past or hatred hanged above their races, he was a dwarf of honour; and he would make sure King Thranduil would get to his people in one piece. That much he could do.

He turned around and almost came crashing down against the elf who was now standing right in front of him. Thranduil quirked a brow at him, his hands holding something Thorin could barely make out since he was concentrated in glaring at the elf.

“My Lord Thranduil, I’m considering in putting a bell on you,” Thorin grumbled looking away to hide the colouring on his cheeks.

“And missing the chance to see you jump the way you do? I do not think so, Master dwarf,” Thranduil replied with a smirk on his lips, Thorin narrowed his eyes at the elf.

Thranduil shifted from one foot to the other stretching his hands, for the first time Thorin saw the elf was holding a pair of death rabbits.

“Anyway, before you decided to keep avoiding me, I thought you may be interested in some dinner.”

Thorin grabbed the rabbits quite impressed; he opened his mouth to say something but Thranduil had already walked past him.

“I think I will follow your example and clean myself up.”

Thorin watched the Elven-King walking towards the river; he furrowed his brows as if missing something important. Then, he glanced at the rabbits and back to the elf.

“Wait a moment; are you expecting me to cook for you?”

Thranduil turned around until his silver eyes fell upon blue ones; he arched his brows pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Then, as an afterthought he shrugged.

“I did get us food, the equitable would be for you to cook dinner, don’t you think Master dwarf?”

Thorin opened his mouth, then closed it. He fumed turning around to look for a place where he could start the fire and where they could be protected from the wind during the night. Thranduil turned around to the water, his lips curling up in amusement.

****

By the time Thranduil had finished cleaning up Thorin had fixed everything for them.

The dwarf had fixed a small fire at the entrance of a nook made of stone and trees, it was perfect to protect them from the cold wind, and big enough to host them during the night. Thorin had sat down at the entrance of the nook, glancing at the cooking dinner as Thranduil went deep inside sitting with his back against stone and facing the fire. A heavy silence fell between them; Thorin was watching the fire looking at the elf once in a while out of the corner of his eyes, Thranduil felt those glances on him he tried to collect his thoughts before he went to ask the burning questions in his mind.

The silence between them was almost unbearable, it made Thorin tensed for he was not used to this kind of discomfort. He remembered those boisterous dinners in which ale and conversation would come and go just as the food kept on filling the table. His mind brought back the memory of the fires, and the songs of old just as everyone enjoyed the festivities in Thrór’s Halls. He snorted putting the meat he had prepared away from the fire before passing one portion to the elf and then taking one for himself. They didn’t have fancy cutlery, so Thorin made use of a few leaves to serve as a plate for the food.

“Thank you,” their eyes met for a moment, Thranduil offering a half bow while Thorin scowled softly.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Thorin finally said, “you did catch food; I was getting worried for I did not know what to do about it.”

“Well, we could have hunt something or go to the river and try our luck with some fish,” Thranduil commented while taking a bite from the meat.

“That’s true, but I was not sure you will eat it.”

“What do you mean?” Thranduil blinked confusedly at this declaration, “I was as starving as you were.”

Thorin shrugged, “I was not aware how much meat you elves consume. I did see you have a taste of some of our dishes, but well…”

Just as he said this, Thorin felt ridiculous.

Of course they eat meat!

He had seen them before; the elven delegation with Prince Legolas at the head had shared their food that usually included pork, beef, fish and chicken. Perhaps, they were not as avid or as enthusiast as the dwarves about it, but it weren’t as if they didn’t enjoy it. The Dwarven-Prince lifted his eyes to see Thranduil was watching him with a light frown on his forehead.

“I do not…” he trailed off for a moment his eyes moving to the meat on his hand, “I do not feel myself repulse by this, not with the act of killing two creatures for us to consume. My kin…It may be not something we do constantly but, it is tasty and it serves its purpose.”

“I apologise, I didn’t want to…” Thorin trailed off snorting again, “I guess we cannot postpone this conversation any longer, right?”

Thranduil tasted another piece of meat glancing at the fire; a part of him knew the taste of meat was something he did not overly enjoy though he did not thought it was disgusting or inappropriate. It was food, and they were hungry. So, what did he enjoy? What was his favourite food? His favourite beverage? Did he enjoy ale? Beer? Wine? None of this rang any bells, he turned to see Thorin was now looking at him waiting for an answer.

“I suppose not, Master dwarf.”

“Really, you should stop that,” Thorin replied making a face, “it sounds strange and unsettling.”

Thranduil offered a dry smile glaring the dwarf, “I will call you something different as soon as you reveal your name to me.”

Thorin wanted to hit himself, his cheeks colour red while his eyes open wide. Up until now, he had not introduced himself to the elf, he saw as Thranduil merely rolled his eyes centring his attention on the fire.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Thorin cringed at the choice of words, he waved his hand feeling his embarrassment grow as he tried to mend his mistake, “I mean, I didn’t remember…I just…”

“Hn, please just stop,” Thranduil lifted a hand piercing the dwarf with his grey eyes, “it is obvious you are still young and learning the arts of diplomacy or subtlety. So let’s forgo this episode and just tell me your name so I can stop unsettling you with my addressing.”

“Thorin.”

Thorin grumbled placing a piece of meat in his mouth; his face was burning with embarrassment and anger. He really was an idiot, but really how was he supposed to deal with all of this? He had not asked for this to happen. And the elf was just so infuriating; Thorin shot a glare to the elf who was still glancing back at him.

Thorin sighed bowing his head, “My name is Thorin and I am the son of Thráin and the third in line for the Throne of Erebor.”

The inquisitive stare Thranduil sent his way made him squirmed a little, he made sure to busy himself with the food while facing those silver eyes. Then, the elf offered a half smile and Thorin realized just how much this changed him; he was not sure he saw that smile on the Elven-King before this day.

“So, you are a Prince,” Thranduil nodded raising his eyebrows, “and, I am a King?”

The temperature was dropping by the minute; Thorin was finishing his food while trying to get closer to the fire. He glanced at the flames, still quite affected by the tone King Thranduil had used on his question. There was doubt there, as if Thorin had been playing a game on him by calling him King.

“You are, yes. From the Woodland Realm, a couple of miles down the main road and the southwest of Erebor,” Thorin lifted his eyes to the elf who broke into a lost expression, “you really…You really don’t remember?”

The elf shook his head though he sent a withering glance to the dwarf before facing the fire, “why would I lie with something like this? It’s not as if I’m enjoying being in the dark, not knowing…”

Thranduil trailed off pursing his lips without finishing his thoughts, Thorin shifted uncomfortably trembling slightly as the cold wind of the night sneaked inside the hiding spot.

“I didn’t want to imply you were lying. I apologise if it sounded that way it’s just…” Thorin shivered again. “I have never seen such a condition or face a predicament like this one. I do not know how to proceed.”

The crackling of the fire broke the silence, the flames dance around them creating phantasmagorical forms on their bodies and the walls. Thranduil saw out of the corner of his eyes as the dwarf trembled under the cold of the night, he himself was not really feeling the weather but his position was far better than the one Thorin was occupying at the moment. For a moment, Thranduil hesitated he kept his eyes on the fire until he saw the dwarf trembling again.

“It is getting colder, you should probably sit closer to me the wind does not hit as harsh as it does at the entrance of this refugee,” Thranduil commented lightly pointing to the spot right beside him.

Thorin pursed his lips looking at the spot then at Thranduil, the dwarf straightened up only giving a few more seconds of hesitation before standing up and going to sit right beside the elf.

“Winter is approaching,” Thorin commented glancing at the fire, “we usually have a great festival going on around this season, snow and wind can be merciless so many look for refugee in the mountain.”

There was memory in his tone, Thorin could not shake the images of his family and friends smiling as many of them worked inside the mountain sharing warm meals and drinks. The sight of falling snow while Thorin would go out to play or hunt, to share his time with his siblings; he shifted on the spot clenching his fists as he knew nothing would ever be the same.

“Why was I in the mountain?”

The sudden voice of the elf brought him back to the situation at hand, he turned around to see Thranduil was shooting him a strange glance. Thorin sighed leaning back against the wall of the stone.

“You were coming to pay homage to the King Under the Mountain,” Thorin explained, “My grandfather, but also because there as some important matters you were supposed to discuss in private with him.”

“I’m guessing you don’t know about it?”

Thorin hesitated shaking his head, “No, King Thrór was rather secretive of these matters.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at this, he could see Thorin was uncomfortable under this line of questioning; his blue eyes were gleaming with worry.

“Is there anything you can tell me about myself?” Thranduil continued trying to move the topic to something more informative, for the moment he really not cared about the diplomatic aspects of his visit; he was more interested in what he could learn about himself.

Thorin glanced back at the elf, for the very first time he noticed how close they were he could see their thighs touching one another, and his right arm was pressing tightly against the left arm of the elf. For a moment, Thorin thought of moving away but he realized this position allowed him to escape the cold of the night and the wind besides; the elf didn’t seem to mind. 

“You have a son,” Thorin said softly realizing just how little he really knew about the elf, a wave of disappointment filled his mind just as the elf directed him an eager stare.

“A son?” Thranduil’s heart skip a beat, he had son. What was he like? His name? He clenched his jaw as the only thing he could see was a white fog, nothing else.

Thorin nodded curtly, “He looks like you, now that I think about it. Not the eyes though, you have silver ones, he have blue ones.”

“I have silver ones?”

They glanced at one another; Thorin tilted his head as he realized he was looking deeply into those silver eyes. He had noticed them on the very first meeting; at that time those eyes had been cold with just a hint of arrogance and anger. Even when they met again while fighting the dragon, Thranduil had kept a wall of detachment with just a hint of fury in them. But now, they were different, a shade of silver gleaming with wonderment and something else Thorin could not name. He cleared his throat looking away before speaking again.

“Yes, you have silver eyes, like mithril while your son has blue eyes like…”

“Yours?”

“What?” Thorin turned sharply to the elf who suddenly was facing the fire.

“Your eyes, they are a deep shade of blue,” Thranduil commented softly, “Are they like this?”

Thorin furrowed his brows scratching his chin, “Well, now that you mentioned it, yes. Though, I would say mine don’t look as ancient as his.”

Thranduil nodded sharply glancing out of the corner of his eye to the dwarf who was wearing a confused expression.

“And, what is his name?”

“Legolas, and he is very much like you though younger and more…” Thorin trailed off waving his hand away, Thranduil turned to the dwarf with some amusement on his features.

“More what?”

Thorin shrugged, “More sociable, I would say. You were not very open or even overly excited to be in Erebor. I don’t think I saw you enjoy the feast or anything really.”

Thranduil furrowed his brows pressing his lips together, “You and I…we didn’t meet before this?”

“No, this was your first visit to the Kingdom,” Thorin replied leaning back against the wall, “I was quite amazed to meet you, but you turn out to be quite different to what I thought.”

“Different how?” Thranduil asked in a whisper, Thorin furrowed his brows before speaking again.

“You were so cold, so angry…And then, you just went ahead to face a huge dragon to give my people and yours a chance to escape,” Thorin glanced at the fire, the warm of the body and the fire engulfing him comfortably just as his eyes started fluttering close, “You were just…not what I imagine and yet, I still don’t know what to make out of you.”

The crackling of the fire broke the sudden silence amongst them; Thranduil glanced at the flames with a million thoughts forming on his mind. If what Thorin was saying was true then, why did the dwarf look so familiar? Why he could recall the feeling of his hand against his? Why he could remember those blue eyes, that deep voice?

Why did he _trust_ him so much?

So many questions, so little answers; Thranduil tried to get a hold of memories of a forest he could recognize. His home, his kingdom but all he could see were flashes of green and gold, flames and blood; the elf cocked his head to the side glaring at the flames. Thranduil wondered not for the first time just what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to remember or how he was supposed to act around the dwarf. Around himself.

This was getting frustrating, he turned to ask Thorin more questions but soon whatever stress or anger he was experiencing turned into tenderness as he saw the dwarf had fallen asleep on him. The elf snorted, shaking his head while he took a deep breath; he must be exhausted still Thranduil’s questions could wait a little longer.

As the night grew around them, Thranduil went back to his conversation with Thorin. For now, he could try to organize what little he had learnt. He tried to put a face to the name of his son. He tried to imagine the long blond hair or the lithe body, younger perhaps in appearance, but ageless in its own right. Blue eyes the only indicator of his age, Thranduil tried to imagine him but the more he did it the more this image eluded him. He clenched his fists closing his eyes in frustration; Thranduil tensed lightly when he felt a weight on his left side. He tilted his head only to discover the dwarf had whole body resting against Thranduil’s one, his head resting on his shoulder snuggling to get more warm under the cold night.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Thranduil passed his arm around Thorin’s shoulder, his cheeks colouring red as he convinced himself it was merely to share body heat to prevent the cold of the night to make them spent a bad night. They needed the rest after all.

The wind moved above them, darkness had already claimed the earth while the sky showed only a couple of stars and heavy clouds. The only source of light was coming from the fire that was still burning brightly in front of them; Thranduil glanced at the dwarf for a long time, imagining those blue eyes again this time around smiling at him, talking to him while leaning in closer. The elf shook his head furrowing his brows to scare away such thoughts.

He really should not entertain something so absurd; he probably had a wife waiting for him in the forest. Besides, Thorin was a dwarf, probably just tied to him due to circumstances but eager to see each other part ways before he joined his people. And, he was also a Prince, probably with some princess or a noble she-dwarf waiting for him to continue the line. For some reason, this made his heart shrank, his eyes shifting to the Prince then to the fire. He should wait until morning to keep questioning Prince Thorin, perhaps getting to know him better.

Just to satiated his curiosity.

Nothing else.

Thranduil leaned back against the wall of the rock; the dwarf shivered lightly snuggling closer to the elf. Thranduil tensed lightly wondering just what were they supposed to do on the next day.

* * *

_Trust me_

Thranduil opened his eyes to the grey light of the morning.

He was no completely sure as to when he had fallen asleep but he did remember what he had dreamed. He glanced down to his hand, the warm of Thorin’s body was still there and he could still grasp the feeling of that hand grasping at his. The elf straightened up noticing he was alone, the fire was once again burning and there were remnants of the rabbits warming up to the fire.

“Well, if it isn’t King Thranduil who finally woke up,” Thorin came to him with a teasing smile, “You really are a heavy sleeper.”

Thranduil tensed up looking away, “If I remember correctly, you were the one falling asleep on me.”

Thorin scratched the back of his head hiding away the blush forming on his cheeks, he remembered. He was not completely sure when he had fallen asleep but he did remember how warm it was and how comfy he felt. He spent a good night, considering the circumstances; he soon turned around to pick up the leaves with the rest of the meat.

“Now that you’re awake I think we should eat this before moving on.”

Thranduil stretched out, his lips curling up as the dwarf passed him over the warm breakfast and made sure the fire was off before they moved on. The elf strolled back to the river, washing his face and hands drinking some water before picking up the meat, Thorin was already waiting for him.

“So, it seems you already know what we should do today?”

Thorin shifted slightly caressing the back of his neck and shoulders as if working up some soreness on his muscles. Thranduil observed with uttered care as those hands rubbed circles on the neck and shoulder; then as soon as he had centred his attention to such a task, he turned away when blue eyes found his. Thorin furrowed his brows in confusion when Thranduil turned away rather fast.

“Yes, I thought about it when I woke up,” here Thorin shoot a quick glance to the elf before continuing, “you were right about the Iron Hills, I thought it would be our best bet but…”

Thorin lifted his eyes to the south were black smoke could still be seen; he furrowed his brows before turning his attention to Thranduil.

“The rumbling we heard yesterday was not by chance. I’ve seen smoke and the rumbling is back. I am afraid that slug is still going on a rampage to whoever approaches the mountain.”

“So, going south is out of the way?” Thranduil finally asked turning to Thorin who merely nodded before offering a half smile to the elf.

“I would ask for your insight on these lands but…”

“I’m useless,” Thranduil replied bitterly.

“I wouldn’t say useless…” Thorin started cringing at his use of words, “what I mean is that, you are not…I mean, it is not that you cannot help but…”

“Prince Thorin, you don’t need to explain anything,” Thranduil stopped the babbling before Thorin could continue, “I could probably help in any other way, but of course, in this you will be leading us. Let’s hope your sense of direction is better than the one you use on the mines.”

“Excuse me? But I did get us out of there,” Thorin replied glaring at the elf who merely shrugged.

“Not quite, I was the one who open the gate.”

“In that case, it was mere chance! We would be there still if…” Thorin trailed off as he saw those silver eyes gleaming and those lips curled up in the simplest off smiles. “You’re teasing me?”

“You are far too easy, Prince Thorin, you should relax,” Thranduil’s smile grew while Thorin grumbled, “I am aware of my limitations, I wouldn’t say no to your guidance.”

Thorin snorted shaking his head before speaking, “I was thinking we could go around the mountain, to the north then turn west to the Grey Mountains and then…well, I think we should gather news in one of the towns around it before we decided anything further.”

“A wise plan,” Thranduil straightened up glancing at his food before nodding north, “let’s get going, then.”

* * *

Thorin and Thranduil walked down the ridge and hillside of the mountainside for more than five days.

They were reluctant to leave the shadow of the mountain, and the running river travelling to the north. The days were getting colder, and the clouds were now following them around during the day giving them a gloomy light that did not improve but rather worsen as they realized snow days were getting closer. Besides, this particular slope and ridge offered them the chance to hunt for food easily than the plain land they could see in front of the mountain; this couldn’t last though and, while they approached the inevitable end of this ridge, they entertained themselves with light conversation.

Thranduil had been the first to break the silence, he asked Thorin about his forest and how much did he know about it. As it turned out, the detail Thorin shared were of political and economic nature, what they produced, what they trade what status they had amongst Erebor and Dale. Thorin spoke of what he had learnt, and Thranduil discovered with some sadness, there was a tinge of mistrust and superiority when he spoke about the elves, a remnant of the eternal rivalry between their races. Still, whenever he went to address Thranduil directly, it was different and Thranduil could not help but _hope._

Once it was evident there was no much Thorin could share about Thranduil or Mirkwood, Thranduil went to get to know his companion. He asked about his family, about the mountain and its people and the sudden change of topic had been all Thranduil needed to discover a side of the dwarf he was pleasantly surprised to discover. Thorin would brighten up, his deep voice would fill their stroll with incredible adventures and rouge descriptions of his family and friends; Thranduil would take everything in allowing his mind to imagine the people who matter the most to Thorin, the places he describe the adventures he had lived. And, unbeknownst to Thorin, Thranduil treasured every single one of his stories for this was the only memories he had, even if they weren’t his.

The nights were different though. It was a time for them to think about what they had lost and to contemplate their next step. Thorin would found himself submerged in memories of his family, friends and people; he would wonder where his father and grandfather had gone when Smaug attacked, he wished more than anything for his sibling and his friends to be out there looking for refugee. 

The Elven-King from his part was faced with the cruel reality of his own limitations. He would glance at the sky spotting a couple of stars up there just as a waved of nostalgia washed over him. He had stopped trying to force his memory, the thick wall of white fog he always came to was overwhelming and it usually left him sad and lost. His only relief was the time he spent with Thorin, or those absurd stories the dwarf told him about his youth or his adventures with his friends and the mountain.

They got into the routine pretty easily and, as time passed by, their reluctant companionship was becoming one of friendship. And, when they less thought about, they had finally reached the edge of the road.

It was late in the afternoon; they were getting tired but did not stop until they were leaning in against the edge of the steep. This boulder lead to a single hillside that end abruptly in a steep to one side, and end in a stepped profile leading to a long valley leading to a long river and a place Thorin called the Withering Lands.

“I think we should rest here today,” Thorin moved closer to the edge, his eyes were examining downhill pursing his lips while thinking of the possibilities, “we can go down in the morning when there is more light and we have rest.”

Thranduil approached the edge nodding briefly, “I think it would be better, shall we try fishing again?”

“Aren’t you tired with the fish?” Thorin asked as the elf started taken off his robe and rolling up his leggings.

“No, I quite enjoy it, actually,” Thranduil turned to the dwarf, his eyes were gleaming lightly just as his expression softened, “It has a better texture than the rabbit or the squirrel and bird we shared the other day.”

Thorin smirked as he started putting together a fire, “Good, it seems we found something you like.”

Thranduil stopped what he was doing to send a quick glance to the dwarf, for a moment he thought about it before his lips curled up slightly.

“You may be right, Prince Thorin, it seems I prefer fish,” it was such a simple detail, but it brought relief to the elf who suddenly was going over this detail and filing up in those little details he had learn about himself.

With this thought in mind, Thranduil went to the river to catch some fish while Thorin started to work on their impromptu camp site. By the time night had already fallen they had eaten and just enjoying light conversation, this time around their breath came in white smoke as the temperature kept on dropping and by then they had gotten used to sleep close to one another, Thorin more so than Thranduil since the elf didn’t seem as affect by the cold as Thorin was. The fire was burning brightly, the flames danced around with a crackling sound as other two fishes cooked there.

Thranduil saw as Thorin took his left hand to his neck and shoulder, he started massaging the muscles while making a face of discomfort, something he had been done the last couple of days.

“You have been doing that as of late, are you in pain?”

Thorin blinked shaking his head, “I just feel discomfort; I’m guessing is the lack of exercise or the lack of better bed arrangements.”

“Pamper much?” Thranduil smirked when Thorin shot him a mocking glare.

“You can’t tell me you’re not missing…” Thorin trailed off when Thranduil rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“I’m not missing much, Prince Thorin,” Thranduil merely stood up holding his elven sword on his hand; he nodded to Thorin presenting his blade with a half-smirk adorning his face, “but perhaps it is time to see how much my body remembers about using a sword and this can help you relax those strain muscles.”

“How is that going to help me with this pain?”

But as he asked this, Thorin stood up grabbing his sword as well his hand closing tightly around the hilt, a jolt of excitement traveling up and down his body as he found himself distracted by this.

It had been too long since he last trained, and perhaps the elf was right, this was all he needed to get back to a work-up routine so his body would not feel so tensed. Thorin rolled up his shoulders trying to dismiss his aching muscles as he passed the hilt of the sword from one hand to the other. He glanced at the elf as they circled one another, his eyes found those silver eyes to the fair features of the elf, no longer was Thranduil wearing the wound on his left cheek and his face was once again just as handsome and regal as he had met him in Thrór’s Hall.

He was not the same, though.

Thorin had noticed these changes; Thranduil did not like it much whenever he addressed him formally. His eyes would narrow lightly while his lips would go into a thin line, he still answered to it though but Thorin had noticed it was not with the same imposing presence as he had done on Erebor. For Thorin, it was getting pretty easy to separate the King he had met to the elf he was getting to know, sometimes when they were speaking or walking Thranduil would do something that made him wonder if it was part of a hidden memory Thranduil had in him, or merely something he decided to try on and it worked. And, as times passed by, Thorin had learnt to separate one from the other, the former Elven-king was no longer there, but Thranduil was and that’s the male Thorin was getting to know and the one he was starting to trust.

“I hope you go easy on me.”

“Not a chance, elf,” Thorin snorted teasingly, “you ask for this and you’re going to get it.”

Thranduil’s laughter resonated in the valley, Thorin smiled back before stepping forward with his sword at the ready. Their swords clashed with a single clanging sound, Thranduil was still wearing his smirk as his feet dance on the ground while the sword described short and define movements in front of him. It was meant to test his abilities, but so far he had done double strikes to test his own proficiency with the weapon he was still testing. Thorin soon found himself in deep trouble; so far he was made to parry each strike but he was having some troubles reading the elf that seemed to be highly concentrated on his own technique, his façade a mask of pure neutrality.

TThranduil recognized the weight on his hand, the soft texture of the hilt fit his hand and his muscles and wrist recognized the silent orders he sent over. He twisted the wrist as his feet step back and forth creating a sort of game between balance and strength, his body followed in just as he learnt to use the weapon on his hand as an extension of his body and, while Thorin seemed to rely completely on strength and technique, Thranduil seemed to rely on speed and grace as if he had done this a long time.

Their swords met one last time as Thranduil pressed forward to meet Thorin halfway, both of them locked eyes and Thorin realized they were smiling. He snorted noticing the sweat falling down his face whereas Thranduil seemed unaffected by the training session. He lowered his sword shaking his shoulders wincing lightly as the discomfort on his shoulder and neck came back.

“I dare say, King Thranduil, you do remember how to do this,” Thorin placed the sword on the ground clenching his teeth as a jolt of pain travelled down his arm.

“And I dare say this did not help the pain on your shoulder and neck,” Thranduil sheathed the sword tilting his head, “Perhaps, I can help you out, I am not healer and I do not possess any medical training but…well, I could…”

Thranduil made a strange movement with his hands; Thorin arched a single eyebrow with his lips curling up at the soft tone of pink adorning those cheeks of the elf.

“Are you offering a back rub?” Thorin said teasingly though considering the offer.

“I’m just…” Thranduil made a movement with his hand, it was a foolish proposal and he definitely didn’t know where it came from but Thorin merely shrugged wincing again.

“Well, my Lord, the thing is I don’t think you should do this because of your position but then again we are in a strange situation so, if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t say no.”

Thorin was really trying to sound nonchalant but he was really getting kind antsy about the situation, it wasn’t as if he didn’t appreciate the offer, no. The thing was a part of him would greatly appreciate it for he was not indifferent to the beauty of the elf; another part of him thought this was not a task a King should undertake.

“I do not understand what you mean, it seems this is bothering you greatly and tomorrow we will need all our strength and ability to go down this hill,” Thranduil nodded towards the fire without looking at the dwarf, “I will do this gladly if it helps you a little to ease the discomfort you are feeling.”

“Thank you,” Thorin went to sit down right in front of the fire, his eyebrows knitted together just as he sensed the other male behind him, “I was just…you know? You’re a King; I don’t think it is right for you to do this as if you were serving me in such a way.”

Thranduil knelt behind the dwarf, his eyes flickering from the fire to the back of the male sitting in front of him.

“You should stop thinking that.”

“What?” Thorin inquired fixing his hair so Thranduil could work easily on his back.

“I am not a King,” Thranduil’s voice was soft, his hands went directly to the dwarf’s neck preventing him from turning around as he said this, “I do not remember myself in such a role.”

Thorin dropped his shoulders lowering his head as the elf’s hands started working on his tense muscles.

“And yet, you are a King,” Thorin sighed his body giving in relaxing under the working fingers of the elf.

Thranduil took a deep breath; he followed his fingers as they kneaded on the expose skin of the dwarf’s neck. There was a moment of silence, Thranduil tried to distract himself from the present conversation as his hands worked deep circular motions moving down the neck to the shoulder and the back and arm. 

“I would prefer for you to address me by my name,” Thranduil finally said, his voice was still soft almost lost, “I do not feel comfortable with the title.”

This time around Thorin did turn around, but the elf was avoiding his eyes concentrated with the massage. Thorin then nodded sharply.

“If you wish it.”

“I do.” Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

“Then, I expect the same courtesy,” Thorin smiled shooting a quick glance to the elf, “You may call me Thorin, we’re in the same situation after all.”

“If you wish it,” Thranduil replied softly, his own lips curling up.

“I do.”

Thorin nodded sharply closing his eyes while enjoying those hands that seemed to know exactly what they were doing. He sighed relaxing under the kneading and the pressing of his muscles, moving up and down on his left side; Thorin made a noise at the back of his throat as his whole body gave in closing his eyes while leaning back on the other male.

Thranduil snorted as he realized after a while Thorin had fallen asleep leaning against him, the elf placed Thorin softly on the ground making sure he was resting on his back. It was still not the best position, but at least like this he wouldn’t be putting any extra pressure on his muscles. The elf glanced at the sleeping dwarf, his lips pressing together just as his hand moved to put a stray lock of hair away from the face, the beard brushed against his hand and the elf could not help the smile forming on his face. Then, as soon as it showed he wiped it out, moving his hand away and sitting down with his eyes firmly in place on the fire

* * *

The hillside was a little sloping; it travelled down for a couple of miles until it met abruptly with the ground level of the valley.

Thranduil could see the rocky formations around it; it held some grass, shrubs and small trees that held no more leaves in it. The morning was gloomy, strong winds with cutting edges were traveling down the mountain; Thranduil looked out of the corner of his eyes as Thorin rubbed his hands together, his warm breath forming white clouds in front of his face.

“What do you think?”

“It doesn’t look too dangerous, but of course there is no clear path and the rocks can be treacherous,” Thranduil leaned in against the edge he straightened up glancing around them to the land spreading out before the mountainside.

So far, his elven eyes had seen a long, deserted valley.

“Then, we better do this; I really hope we have moved past the shadow of Erebor by nightfall,” Thorin scrunched up his face, “If I’m not wrong there is a village two days down the land, towards the Withered Heath.”

“That’s the north part of the land, right?”

“Yes, and legend says it is the land where dragons are bred,” Thorin declared sombrely, “But, we shall worried about it, if it comes to it.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing lightly just as the clouds clear up to show a dark shade of blue in the sky. He turned to Thorin who was looking down at him.

“Let me go first,” Thranduil said suddenly, Thorin furrowed his brows ready to protest but Thranduil straightened up shaking his head, “no, I do know I am more skilful than you on this, and you can follow me down by imitating what I do.”

“Excuse me? But, you just decided you are better than me in this?” Thorin crossed his arms sending a withering glance to the elf and separating his legs stubbornly.

Thranduil shook his head, “I did not decide anything, Thorin. It is a fact.”

“I am as skilful as you in this! Or, have you forgotten dwarves climb up and down mountains and mines whenever it is necessary?” Thorin replied.

“But, with ropes and security measures, here we don’t have them and someone needs to do this first to clear up a path,” Thranduil clenched his fists as his eyes went to the hillside then back to Thorin, “in any case, it shouldn’t matter who goes first or second as long as we finally come down.”

“Then, let me go first.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes shaking his head, he leaned forward lifting his hand to touch the dwarf but he stopped midway backing out while looking away. He was not keen of Thorin finding out how reluctant he was for the dwarf to do this first. If anything went wrong, Thranduil cold react rather fast and help himself up or help Thorin up; that much he knew, and that much he remembered. He was quite proficient in this; beside, Thorin was still sore and his shoulder and neck was still suffering from discomfort. The elf turned again and he found himself watching Thorin directly into his blue eyes, he tried to hide away his concerns but just as he thought Thorin was about to argue again, those blue eyes softened in understanding.

“Very well, then, you go first and I will follow,” Thorin grumbled out reluctantly, “But, we better start now or we’re going to spend the rest of the day debating this.”

The elf’s lips twitched upwards, he gave a short bow of his head to Thorin before he set to work. Thorin did not stop his mumbling all through the descent; he shook his head while making sure to follow to the letter what Thranduil was doing while climbing down. Thorin was admonishing himself for being so weak; really, all it took for the dwarf was to see those grey eyes gleaming with concern and he was giving in. He was really in trouble if all his anger and annoyance could be easily forgotten at the sight of the self-satisfied smile Thranduil would shoot his way once in a while.

Of course, Thranduil had been right though Thorin would never admit it; twice he almost fell down if he hadn’t felt the hand of the elf on his back, or if he hadn’t heard the instructions he gave Thorin from down below. Thranduil had turned out to be quite skilful at this, his feet finding the right rock or surface to hold him back, he did this as if he had done so all his life and Thorin had some difficulty to follow up just as fast as the elf was doing it.

While the hillside was not overly tall, nor it was that inclined or anything, it did take them more than two hours to reach the ground level. By the time they get there, Thorin was sore and his arms and legs were hurting, there was sweat coming down his face and he really wished he could rest.

“How is it possible for you to look so…good?” Thorin mumbled with a hint of incredulity in his tone.

Thranduil raised a single eyebrow, his lips curling up teasingly at the dwarf, “I look good to you, Thorin?”

The dwarf opened his eyes waving his hands away, “You know what I mean!”

“Do I?” Thranduil chuckled when Thorin sputtered before turning away with a huff, “Do not fret, I’m just teasing.”

“Yes, I notice,” Thorin grumbled crossing his arms.

“It was not that hard to do it,” Thranduil shrugged, “I didn’t have to exert myself, that’s why I offer to do so first.”

Thorin said nothing choosing to look up then back down, the ground level was completely different to the ridge around the mountain. In here there was grass and dirt, bushes and shrubs grew around it but the nature had lost all green and gave way to dull colours. Thorin glance around realizing in this part there was no water.

“I think we can continue then, go down until we reach the river,” Thorin straightened up wincing lightly as his body ached uncomfortably, “I really need a bath.”

Thranduil made a face, “You certainly do.”

“Hn, who had thought you will be such a comedian,” Thorin grumbled out strolling down the land with Thranduil following.

“It seems I am full of surprises, I am still discovering things about myself,” Thranduil replied eyeing Thorin with care, “besides, you are way too easy to tease.”

Thorin shook his head, “elves.”

Both of them set down to continue with their mission, the day was already advancing around them and right now they were entering unknown territory, Thranduil was following Thorin close behind, his eyes studying the dwarf carefully to make sure he was doing fine though he had already noticed Thorin was sore for the effort, he furrowed his brows in concern for he knew they would need to rest pretty soon.

Thorin for his part was set on continuing at least until there was no more light to help them out. Now that they were definitely out of the mountain and the protective shadow of Erebor, he was more anxious to find his people and to know what had happened to them. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes as Thranduil followed him without saying any word, Thorin sighed feeling guilty. He knew the elf was only doing what he did because Thorin was his only connection to his past, or at least to someone who could help him out recover what he lost. He wondered if perhaps the elf would have been as cooperative as he was if he remembered who Thorin was; perhaps, the elf would have abandoned him by now. Thorin shook his head, no. Thranduil was not like that. He had stayed behind, he had made time for Thorin’s people and the elves to get out, and he had saved Thorin.

Thorin smiled softly as he thought this; this Thranduil was like no other elf he had met before. He was easy going, and while Thorin was the only target for his witty comments, the Dwarven-Prince could tell he could be funny and playful if the mood struck him. As difficult as it was to think about it, Thorin had started to like the elf and he did not want to think about what would happen once they reached their people, once they reached his father and King Thrór.

“Look, there is the river,” Thranduil pointed out bringing Thorin back from his thoughts.

“Good, I really wish to take a quick bath and then, we can have something to eat before continuing.”

Thranduil pressed his lips together but said nothing; he merely followed Thorin while thinking of ways to convince him to rest for the remaining of that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, they are out of the mountain and now getting into the wild lands, and Thranduil is getting attached to Thorin. Next chapter, more conversations and more...confusion from both of them and finally, a fight and the city of men.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Don´t forget to comment!


	5. The Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, new chapter and a new set of troubles!  
> Hope you guys like this one, thank you for reading, commenting, and the kudos and bookmarks.  
> Please, remember that English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

**Chapter 5**

**The Protector**

Thorin wanted to scream in frustration.

He was staring at the fire right in front of him with his mind drifting away to the last couple of days. They had made their way out of the mountain without any trouble, Thorin had freshened up and then they started walking following the river but for two days nothing changed and nothing showed up. No city, no people, nothing.

He had promised the elf sleeping beside him it would take them two days to reach a city of men; but after four days of walking he knew he had broken that promised. The days were getting darker and colder, nights arrived earlier and days started later; food was scarce and they had left the river a day ago. Thorin shivered as his fist clenched tightly, his mind working around the maps and books he had seen at the palace’s library and what his mentors had taught him; but he couldn’t come with anything, Thorin winced as another painful cramp went down his shoulder and neck.

“With all the tension you’re putting on your body it is not surprising you’re still hurting,” Thranduil sat down with his hair falling on his face, “Would you like me to…”

“No, I don’t,” Thorin replied through clenched teeth, Thranduil sighed incorporating while placing himself right behind the dwarf.

Thorin turned around sharply; his blue eyes glowered as he faced the elf who merely pursed his lips arching a brow.

“Stop acting like a spoiled prince, let me help,” the elf spoke softly placing his hands on each shoulder of the dwarf, Thorin opened his mouth to protest but soon closed it again facing the fire again crossing his arms.

Thorin focused his stare on the fire, he wanted to argue but the thing was Thranduil did have a point. These moments gave him some comfort, and he was coming to enjoy the attention. A part of him felt awful, as if he was taken advantage of Thranduil someway; another part, simply told him, the elf was offering out of sympathy and gratefulness. The Dwarven-Prince dropped his shoulders tiredly lowering his head as those finger kneaded on his muscles.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, his fingertips working on those tense muscles while trying to calm down his hammering heart. This specific activity had become a routine between them, Thranduil had seen the discomfort on the dwarf and usually Thorin was very welcoming of this moments; however, since they had not spotted any nearby forms of civilization his mood had soured and he had tried to put some distance between them. Thranduil was hurt, but he would never admit it out loud.

Thorin for his part could not shake the feeling of disappointment; he was supposed to be a leader to always know what to do and how to proceed. And, here he was relying on the elf’s help, not knowing where to go and still having Thranduil trusting him when he shouldn’t, helping him when he shouldn’t…Thorin sighed as his shoulders dropped and his body started relaxing under the relaxing rubbing from the elf. He shouldn’t enjoy this nor he should be entertaining thoughts about himself and the elf, and yet…

“You’re thinking too hard,” the voice was above a whisper with a reassuring tone just as Thranduil applied some pressure to the shoulder and neck, “we are close to those hills, tomorrow I can go there and see if there is anything far in the distance.”

“We should have gotten somewhere by now,” Thorin replied hating the breaking in his voice, “I should know about…”

Thranduil snorted shaking his head and shooting an exasperate stare to the dwarf who was now scowling at him.

“It is not your job to know everything, Thorin, these lands are vast and not everyone stayed on the same place for too long,” Thranduil tried to be reassuring, he sat beside the dwarf turning his eyes to the fire, “I know we will make it, so do not fret and do no punish yourself.”

“How can you…” Thorin trailed off finding himself unable to finish his sentence when Thranduil offered him a half-smile.

“I just do,” Thranduil sighed looking up to the sky were small snowflakes start falling slowly, he frowned knowing that once winter started they would need a safe refugee if they were to survive, “do you know if…I have a wife?

“What?” Thorin turned to the elf who suddenly seemed pretty interested in the fire.

Thranduil lowered his gaze before speaking again, “Do you know if I have a wife?”

Thorin furrowed his brows a different kind of discomfort settling on his heart, “No, I don’t remember anyone mentioning it, not you or Prince Legolas, but…I cannot be certain.”

Thranduil nodded briefly and this time around he faced the dwarf who was looking at him with a strange look on his face.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious, it seems as if we’re not going to sleep anytime soon, may as well have a nice conversation,” Thranduil then opened his mouth and then, “And you?”

“Me what?” Thorin asked confusedly.

“Do you have a wife? A fiancée?” Thranduil asked rolling his eyes, though Thorin could see the flustered expression on the elf’s face.

“I…No, I don’t,” Thorin scrunched up his nose, “I am…we’re not…it doesn’t work that way for us.”

“What do you mean?” This time around it was Thranduil the one looking confused, Thorin shifted on his spot wondering where all this questioning came from; then he realized Thranduil was right, night was getting colder, and snow was starting to fall. They were not going to have a good night sleep anyway, so might as well distract themselves.

“We only take on a partner when we find our _One_ , the partner meant to be with us for life,” Thorin explained carefully not sure if he should be saying this to an outsider, “we are not tied to political marriages or anything like other races.”

“So, this is like a soul mate?” Thranduil was still looking at the fire, Thorin made a face shaking his head.

“No, it’s just…someone you feel connected with and that is something you don’t feel with anyone else.”

Thranduil sent him a wry stare, “Like a soul mate.”

“It’s not…” Thorin rolled his eyes when Thranduil merely arched a single eyebrow, “yes, yes, let’s say is like a soul mate.”

Thranduil pursed his lips again, he turned around for a moment and then, “have you found yours?”

Thorin straightened up hiding away the blush forming on his cheeks, this line of questioning was quite strange and he suddenly felt very aware of how private this conversation would have been back in Erebor. But perhaps, the elf was just curious.

“No, I haven’t and…you now? For us, dwarves, this is quite a private matter, we don’t go around asking these questions,” Thorin mumbled glancing at the elf who nodded curtly.

“I apologize, I was just curious I didn’t mean to meddle,” Thranduil then cleared his throat, his eyes glancing at the hand now firmly pressed on his forearm.

“I know I’m not sure what you’re curious all of a sudden but…” Thorin offered a half smile, “I haven’t had the time to think about any romance in my life. I just started working on my duties as the third in line and learning the workings of a Kingdom so…not really paying attention to anything else.”

Thranduil nodded curtly filing away this piece of information, he saw as Thorin shivered crossing his arms. The elf moved closer until the both of them were touching facing the fire, Thorin smiled softly leaning in against the elf welcoming the new warmness on his right side.

“Was Legolas there?”

“Where?”

“The day of Smaug’s attack.”

Thorin opened his eyes as the memories piled up on his mind, “Yes, he was.”

The wind blew around them with white dotes dancing in front of their eyes, Thranduil tried to search deep inside his emotions. How should he feel about this? Worried? Sad?

“He hurt the slug, actually,” Thorin mumbled remembering that day, “He shoot an arrow straight to the eye of the dragon, I thought he had killed him.”

“It takes more than an arrow to hurt a dragon,” Thranduil commented to which Thorin chuckled coldly.

“Yes, I know,” Thorin snuggled closer to the elf, “I do not know more after that, Smaug destroyed that entrance and that was the last time I saw him.”

Thranduil pursed his lips lowering his gaze, Thorin placed his hand on top of Thranduil’s clenched fist.

“I’m sure he made it out on time.”

“I am not sure how to feel,” Thranduil confessed, “I guess a part of me should be proud, he is a nice shooter, and then worried he may be hurt and then…”

Thorin sighed watching the white cloud forming in front of his eyes; Thranduil straightened up letting out a deep breath.

“I guess I am proud. And a tad worried he may be hurt or worse…” Thranduil turned to Thorin then, “but, I’m also hopeful he made it out with your family and friends.”

“Now, we just need to find them,” Thorin mumbled to which Thranduil nodded.

“We will.”

Thorin pursed his lips as he was brought back to their situation, his breath caught up on his throat when he felt an arm wrapping tightly around his shoulder bringing him closer to the male sitting beside him.

“Do not fret, we will. Try to get some sleep.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Thorin whispered tensed and uncomfortable that Thranduil was, once again, offering comfort.

“I know,” it was all Thranduil said before Thorin closed his eyes and allowed himself a nice rest.

* * *

Thorin watched as Thranduil climbed up the closest hill, his eyes followed with ease as the elf got to the top and started looking around.

Morning had arrived with more snow colder and darker than on previous days, they were hungry but so far they had not luck in catching anything to eat. The land before them spread out in uneven patterns with a craggy landscape surrounded by desolate nature; Thorin had tried to cooperate offering different resolutions while hiding away his discomfort, Thranduil had heard with care as he informed him of all the things he remembered about these lands and now, the elf was up there trying to follow up what Thorin had advised.

Thorin winced as a jolt of pain went down his back, through his shoulder and down the rest of his body. He clenched his jaw rather annoyed by this new development, he not only got them lost but now he seemed to be getting sick and being more of a nuisance than anything. He watched as the elf seemed rather focused on his observations, Thorin pursed his lips taking a deep breath while getting a hold of himself. The dwarf clenched his jaw standing stubbornly while drops of sweat form on his face at the effort he was doing resisting the pain, he lifted his face but soon regret such a foolish decision as his neck ached at the sudden movement.

There was not sound but that of the wind, dark clouds above their heads while the chill of the morning weather made Thorin shivered.

“There is a wooden area northwest of these hills,” Thranduil was standing right before the dwarf, his brows knitted together though his eyes were giving Thorin a once over, “I think we could make it there by this afternoon.”

Thorin seemed rather hopeful, then he shoot a questioning glance to the elf that seemed to be smiling.

“If my eyes don’t trick me, I think I saw smoke coming from that area.”

“You did, really?” Thorin sounded hoarse and tired, but the elf said nothing, whenever he tried to bring this up he was met by a denial and a really mad dwarf.

“Yes, it could be the town you mentioned,” Thranduil pressed his lips together, his silver eyes boring deeply into blue ones, “Thorin…”

“Look, if what you’re telling is right then, that could be a town or at least people making a fire,” Thorin dismissed whatever Thranduil was about to say, “we should set out to these wooden area and then, see what happens. Snow is already falling and I really don’t want to be around when a snowstorm comes over.”

Thranduil sighed tiredly as he saw the other male walking quickly past him to the road in between the hills. The Elven-King followed with his eyes everything Thorin was trying to do while holding himself up without a single expression of discomfort; he had to give it to the dwarf, he was strong and resistant and even though they seemed to be lost he had not falter in his goal.

Still, Thranduil was worried. He couldn’t help it, he knew there was something bothering Thorin, something physical and unless he shared it with Thranduil there was nothing the elf could do.

“We should get moving; perhaps on the way there we found something to eat,” Thorin waved his hand away grimacing just as he waited for Thranduil to follow.

Snow had started falling again.

The light snow blew in their faces as they made their way out of the hills to the wooden area Thranduil had seen. The world before them dived in two well-defined terrains, up northeast the land was desolate and empty, Thranduil had seem fumes coming from the earth and nothing worth mentioning. To the northwest, however there was a shadowy area surrounded by tall trees and grassland, the smoke he had seen was not there anymore but he knew it was quite different from the fumes coming from the northeast.

Thorin wanted to help he wanted to share what he remembered about the maps or the readings he had done about the terrain; Thranduil heard attentively while sharing his own insights about what he had observed, they both of them set into small talk about what to expect and how to be prepare for anything. As they kept on walking, Thranduil realized there was something wrong with Thorin.

The elf was not familiar with illness, much less how to treat it or how to spot it correctly; however, for him it was evident something was happening to Thorin. That morning he had flustered cheeks and bloodshot eyes, he hadn’t stopped shivering and sometimes a quiet exclamation would escape his lips while his face winced in discomfort.

“How far away is this wooden area?” Thorin inquired with a rouge voice crossing his arms to stop his body from trembling.

Thranduil furrowed his brows, “A couple of miles, I would say we will be there by the end of the day if we don’t stop.”

“Then, let’s get moving, Thranduil,” Thorin staggered forward before straightened up, “We must reach them to get some sort of protection from the snow.”

Thranduil quirked a brow at the dwarf who merely rolled his eyes.

“This little snow is nothing, this is just going to get worse as the day advanced,” Thorin shivered again though his face set on a resolute expression, “Let’s go.”

Thranduil could not argue, the sooner they go to the forest the sooner they would know if there was any human village that way. If this turned out to be just an empty crusade, Thranduil did not know what he was going to do if something were to happen to Thorin. His eyes fell upon the back of the dwarf who was moving slowly, as if each step cost him greatly; the sky above them was dark and heavy with oncoming snow. For a moment, Thranduil found himself lost in the sight of those grey clouds, and the blowing wind just as his mind flashed with images of another moment, another time.

“Thranduil?”

The elf lowered his gaze and found himself looking into Thorin’s eyes, the dwarf was frowning and shivering again.

“You are going to freeze,” a fear like nothing before took over Thranduil’s heart, he looked away from Thorin before his hands moved swiftly to his robe.

“What are you doing?” Thorin opened his eyes approaching the elf who seemed to be taking off his robe.

“What does it look like?” Thranduil replied drily but Thorin scowled at him shaking his head.

“No, don’t do that, you idiot! Winter is already here and the temperature has been dropping every day!” Thorin shook his head as Thranduil finally disentangled himself from his robe.

“I may not remember my name, Thorin, nor anything about my life before this moment. But, I do know this weather is not dangerous for me the way it is to you.”

“So, you decided to get naked to prove it?”

“I’m not getting naked! I’m trying to give you something else to protect yourself from the weather!” Thranduil stepped closer to the dwarf who was trying to fight those arms as Thranduil tried to put the robe on the dwarf, “stop fighting.”

“I won’t use it!”

“You have to”

“I don’t have to do anything!”

“You’re going to die if you don’t do it!” Thranduil didn’t even raise his voice; it was but a whisper that reached Thorin only because the elf was unnecessary close to him.

Thorin stopped his fighting looking up to see Thranduil looking back at him, Thorin wondered not for the first time how much of the Elven-King was left behind in this amnesiac elf. There was fear showing on those fair features, those silver eyes begging silently for Thorin to just take what they were offering.

“Why are you so…” Thorin trailed off not sure if it was wise to bring up the fear he saw, Thranduil huffed placing the robe around the dwarf who soon noticed the changed in his own temperature.

“What would I do if something were to happen to you?” Thranduil whispered stepping back; this time around he stood his full height while his eyes seemed quite entranced by the ground in front of them.

Thorin’s heart dropped with disappointment, of course. Thranduil was worried to be alone; he was scared to lose someone who could bring him to his people, someone he already trust. The dwarf shifted around clenching his jaw angered for a moment, not really understanding why all of a sudden he felt hurt. Thorin then took a closer look to the male standing before him, alabaster skin smooth and devoid of any mark as if the elf had never been in battle. The long, golden hair falling down and held back by the circlet he had not taken off since they left the mountain; the face already healed and handsome, just like the very first time they met. Thranduil might not remember who he was, but his body certainly did. He stood with his back straightened up, shoulders pulled back and a hand firmly placed on the hilt of his sword.

Thorin wrapped a hand around the robe, pressing it closer to his body; if it wasn’t because of the memory, Thranduil probably would have already gotten them out of this mess.

“How are you feeling?”

Thorin shrugged looking away, “I feel warmer, thank you. We should get going, we cannot waste more time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Thranduil saw as Thorin tense but did not turn to face him.

“We really need to keep going; you don’t need to worry about me. I won’t die, at least not until you are safely at the hands of your people.”

Thranduil stepped forward but before he could reach Thorin the dwarf started walking again. Thranduil followed him close behind trying to stop Thorin or at least to follow him up.

“That’s not what I mean either,” Thranduil sighed in frustration, “I’m worried about you. I know you have not felt well…”

“Look, it could be just a simple flu, nothing to worry about,” Thorin did not stop nor did he turn to face the elf, “but you’re right, what would you do if something where to happen to me? We need to…”

“You’re an idiot.”

This time around Thranduil made it past the dwarf walking as fast as his legs would take him leaving a pretty bewildered dwarf behind.

*****

The snow had not stopped falling all through the day and, while the winds had not changed and the light snow was not overly harmful it was obvious they could not keep up like this. They had not spoken all day, and Thorin was really missing those small conversations they would held while strolling through the lands. It was really funny how, even if Thranduil didn’t seem to remember anything, they still found some specific topics to discuss; sometimes they discussed about Thorin’s education or what Thranduil thought about some of his adventures, some others Thranduil merely asked Thorin about his likes and dislikes, what they should do once they reached their respective people.

The dwarf snorted glancing out of the corner of his eyes to the half-naked elf walking right ahead of him. He cleared his throat while walking fast to catch up to the elf, Thranduil did not turn around though he did slow down enough so now they were walking side by side. At least, the elf seemed to have missed him as much as Thorin missed him.

“I’ve heard that your Kingdom is built in the forest but it has several caverns leading to a sort of underground palace and city,” Thorin commented offhandedly, “I can’t imagine you elves like the enclose space so much.”

Thranduil made a face while his eyebrows rose at this piece of information, his mind went through the set of memories he had collected in the last couple of days and, while he looked out of the corner of his eyes to the dwarf, he realized this was a peace offering. The silence was driving Thorin mad, just as much as it was driving Thranduil mad with boredom.

“I do not know much about others but, I can tell you I quite enjoy my stay in your mines and caverns,” Thranduil said thoughtfully, “they were magnificent, I know some parts were work by your people, and some others seemed to be nature’s work. I…they were familiar.”

“Really?” Thorin nodded impressed, “well, maybe I underestimate the Woodland Realm, and its elves.”

Thranduil snorted, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Thorin smirked shaking his head, he wrapped the robe tightly around his body while his eyes went to the naked chest and shoulders of the elf.

“You really are not cold?”

“No, I’m not,” Thranduil then looked down to Thorin. “Are you feeling better?”

Thorin opened his mouth ready to lie but thought better of it, “No, I’m not. My body hurts, my head hurts, I’m still cold and I’m hungry.”

“We could stop, if you want,” Thranduil offered slowing down, Thorin shook his head.

“No, we really need a better place to stay today, this snow…” Thorin trailed off before rolling his eyes, “this may kills us.”

Thranduil snorted, “It took you a couple of hours but I am glad you finally realized I was right.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Thorin replied drily.

“It was not that difficult to admit, you see?”

Thorin chuckled shaking his head, he staggered forward biting his lower lip just as a pair of hands prevented his falling. He tilted his head to see Thranduil was right beside him, his warm presence comforting the dwarf who held tightly onto the elf.

“Thorin…”

The Dwarven-Prince furrowed his brows as his blue eyes found those silver ones, for the very first time he saw something different flashing in those eyes. It was more than concern, it was something Thorin did not recognized but made his heart fluttered painfully. He tried to smile but his whole body protested and soon he found himself sitting on the ground with Thranduil kneeling in front of him.

“You’re burning up,” Thranduil whispered helplessly, “there is still a long way to the wooden area, but perhaps I could carry you and…”

“No! No way!” Thorin tried to incorporate but those hands held him firmly down, “I won’t let any elf carry me! That’s not going to happen.”

“Then, what shall we do, Master dwarf? Let you walk to your death? Or, would you prefer to just wait here?” Thranduil stood up stepping back lifting his arms in frustration.

“Don’t worry, I won’t die, I promise you I will take you back in one piece and by Durin I’m going to keep my promise!”

“You insufferable…” Thranduil took a deep breath before kneeling down again, “I do not care about you taking me everywhere, I care about you and you’re well-being.”

Thorin swallowed as those eyes looked at him with such an intensity he found himself incapable of moving or protest. Thranduil then dropped his head.

“Please, let me help,” Thranduil all but beg and Thorin growled out in frustration.

“If you tell anyone what we’re about to do…” He tried to sound menacingly but it was almost impossible to do so when Thranduil flashed him such a shy smile.

“I won’t, I promise.”

He turned around still kneeling waiting for Thorin to go on top of him, those arm closed around the naked shoulders of the elf who trembled lightly under the touch. It was a good thing Thranduil was facing away from Thorin, for he was pretty sure his cheeks were now an interesting shade of red he was not about to explain to the other male. His hands wrapped around each leg of the dwarf and soon they started walking again.

Thorin would not admit it but this was refreshing, being this close to the elf brought some warm and protection from the coldness of the weather. His body relaxed thankful for the fact he was no longer pushing it to its limit; not really knowing where to put his hands, Thorin had opted to just let them on those naked shoulders while his head tried to glance above the golden hair.

“You really are strong,” Thorin commented after a while, “I mean, to be able to lift me and still walk this fast.”

“You don’t weight too much, and time is of essence, right?” Thranduil commented lightly.

“Yes, it is,” Thorin sighed his eyes were teary, and he was getting dizzy. “You didn’t have to do this, you really don’t know me.”

Thorin felt as Thranduil tensed under these words, the elf could not turn around but Thorin didn’t need to see his face to know the elf was looking confused. Really, the Elven-King didn’t know Thorin at all, the Dwarven-Prince did not even care about elves up until now, and even now Thorin wouldn’t go as far as saying he care about them at all, he just seemed to care for one elf in particular.

Again, a wave of guiltiness went through Thorin’s mind, it felt as if he was taken advantage of the other male. Thorin knew the Elven-King would not be happy with this situation, he also knew Thranduil was about to leave Erebor with rage and anger in his heart; there was no love lost between the Elven-King and the Sons of Durin, and yet here they were, crossing the unknown lands up north with Thranduil doing everything in his power to help Thorin. What Thorin should have been doing instead of being sick and tired and lost; the dwarf clenched his fist trying to clean up his mind of such thoughts.

“Is there something the matter?” Thranduil inquired slowing down.

“No, you don’t need to worry, let’s just….”

Thranduil wanted to say something else but he thought better of it, he nodded curtly and continued. As the day advanced the wooden area was coming closer and closer, until the both of them realized it was a forest and the smoke Thranduil had seen was not an illusion, at the other side of this forest was either a town or a house, a place where they could take refugee.

“It seems as if you were right,” Thorin commented just as the elf put him on the ground, “there seems to be some kind of house or town beyond this forest.”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Thranduil tilted his head, his hand moving distractedly towards the dwarf’s face.

Thorin arched a single eyebrow when those fingers pushed aside a strand of dark hair from Thorin’s face. Thranduil opened his eyes in realization; he took his hand back fast looking away.

“You…You seem to be better, not fever at least,” Thranduil mumbled clearing his throat.

“Yes, I think I feel…”

Whatever else Thranduil was about to say was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream breaking the tranquillity of the valley. Soon, cold laugher and more screams could be heard, Thorin took his hand to his sword ready to go into the forest until a hand stopped him. He turned sharply towards the elf who had his own hand on the hilt of his sword, those eyes were cold as ice, glancing at the dwarf shaking his head.

“I surely hope you’re not stopping me for…”

Another scream this time around more laughter and rough voices; both, Thorin and Thranduil turned to the source but it was Thranduil the only one who could see movement down the clearing.

“We should…” Thorin started but Thranduil shook his head nodding ahead of them.

“There is something moving down there,” he turned to face Thorin with the same expression Thorin had seen back in Erebor, “we should help, but try to not make any noise, we don’t need to inform them of our presence.”

“I can be quiet!”

Thranduil shot him a glare nodding towards the forest, more screams and laughter, Thorin rolled his eyes drawing his sword at the same time as Thranduil then, without any more words or glances to one another the entered the forest.

Thorin took a deep breath watching the ground careful where he stepped as he tried to keep an eye out for the elf. It didn’t take them long to reach the source of the screams and the heavy noise, chilly voices and evil laughter made them aware whoever or whatever was up there was not pleasant at all.

They reached a fallen tree, Thorin knelt down under the protective shadow of branches and bushes, he narrowed his eyes watching as a group of orcs appeared on his eyesight. His hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, his body ached in pain and he really was starting to feel under the weather. He glanced at the elf out of the corner of his eyes, but Thranduil seemed completely focused on the scene in front of them.

The orcs were laughing and talking in that infernal language of theirs, they were putting the contents of a cart wheel out choosing those they thought valuable and discarding those that weren’t. On the ground was the body of a man, completely tore to pieces and in front of him were two teenagers and a man all three of them tied up and beat up.

“We should just take this and the humans and leave,” one of the creatures spoke glancing evilly at the three men on the ground, “I’m hungry.”

The counted five orcs and they seemed to be alone; nobody else seemed to be around the group which means they were working alone. Thranduil took a deep breath, his eyes found those of Thorin, the dwarf merely nodded and then just like that they went out.

The first orc did not know what happened, he lifted his head from under the cart only to have it slash by an elven blade. Up until now, Thorin had not noticed the blade was gleaming blue and much like their training session, Thranduil seemed to be born for this. Thorin certainly was not behind, he had little to not experience in the battlefield but he made it up with strong strokes and well-practice movements.

The dwarf was feeling tired, his movements were slow and his body felt heavier. Yet, he continued pressing forward; he parried an attack with his sword just as his feet slid around for him to kick out the other orc. He blinked away just as he lost the sword, his hand went directly to his axe pulling out his other weapon until it met the head of one of his attackers. Thorin breathed hard grunting in pain when a boot made contact with his chest sending him back and then falling heavy on the ground.

He moaned in pain turning on time to see the orc coming towards him, he lifted his chin in defiance while the creature smirked down at him. The orc cackled maniacally ready to strike but, his face contorted in pain before blood came from his mouth just as a gleaming blade came through his throat.

“I knew you were there,” Thorin breathed heavily as he tried to sit down, he saw as Thranduil tossed the orc aside while those silver eyes shone with worry, “you don’t need to look so worried, I am fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Thranduil replied offering his hand to the dwarf, Thorin hesitated before taken it and helping himself up.

“Wh-who are you?”

Both, Thorin and Thranduil turned to the humans that were still on the ground gaping at the fallen orcs and the two newcomers.

“You’re an elf!” One of the teens exclaimed pointing at Thranduil with huge, black eyes, “Da, he is an elf!”

“I see,” the oldest of the three humans answer turning warily towards Thorin then to Thranduil, “it is highly strange to see an elf in these lands, and it would be almost impossible to see him in the company of a dwarf.”

“It’s this the way you thank those that save you from a certain death?” Thorin inquired shaking his head, the man flustered looking down then back to the dwarf.

“Apologies my Lord, but…it is highly unusual, and even miraculous that you showed on time to save me and my family.”

Thorin grunted by said nothing just as Thranduil approached them cutting the ropes around their feet and arms. The youngest one was still gaping at him, though his eyes were more than curious; Thranduil offered a half smile winking at the kid who was smiling brightly at him.

“Please, do not mind my companion he is usually this grumpy after having be bested by my own abilities,” Thranduil commented lightly shooting a playful stare to the dwarf who merely rolled his eyes.

Thorin was about to say something but his knees buckled and, before he hit the ground Thranduil was at his side holding him tightly against his body.

“Ronnie! Jorund! Help him!” The old man ordered the two young men who soon stood to help the elf.

Thranduil was reluctant to let go of the dwarf, he eyed the two young men who were just hesitant, he nodded briefly and the tall man knelt down to see the fallen dwarf.

“Master elf, I do not have the words to thank you or your companion, I don’t even have the means to do so,” the man started but Thranduil silenced him with a gesture of his hand.

“There is no need, as long as we can stay with you and you can help us out.”

“It would be my pleasure,” the man offered a kind smile and stretched out his right hand, “I am Thormod.”

Thranduil eyed Thorin with concern easily notice on his features, “I’m Thranduil, and he is Thorin and we will be really grateful for your help.”

Thormod glanced at the dwarf nodding, “well, you have our help and our gratefulness. I would say we can use the cart but…”

“I can carry him,” Thranduil replied sheathing his sword, “is your place too far from here?

“No, actually is down the clearing, we’re the only place out of town we usually come here to gather some wood and to check the traps,” Thormod shook his head, “it is not strange to see orcs nearby but they never…get so close.”

“Was he part of your family?” Thranduil pointed to the dead man, Thormod lowered his gaze.

“He was a friend, worked for us whenever winter came,” Thormod glanced at the sky, “Ronnie would guide you and your companion to our cottage, I will stay here and give him a proper burial.”

Thranduil hesitated his eyes went from the orcs to the man, “I could stay a little longer.”

“No, the dwarf doesn’t look that well,” Thormod offered a half smile, “go with Ronnie, my wife knows a thing or two about healing so she can help. We’re going to be fine.”

Thranduil nodded turning towards Thorin, his hands trembled as he put some hair out of the way so he could see the face of Thorin. He picked him up with utter care and then followed the teen called Ronnie, his heart beating fast while he snuggled the dwarf closer begging for Thorin to be fine.


	6. The Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, for the kudos and for reading the story. You guys are the best, now remember English is not my mother tongue so forgive any grammar, spelling or funny mistake.

**Chapter 6**

**The Town**

He stirred awake in the middle of the night.

He could hear the sound of roaring wind and the whispering trees outside the room, he was barely conscious of what had happened and, as he tried to clear his head of any remnants of his sleep induced unconsciousness, he remembered what had happened: Smaug, Erebor, Thranduil. He took a deep breath and his body tensed when he realized he was not alone in bed, his hand was being held protectively by another one. Thorin turned sharply to the side; his eyes fell upon the sleeping form of the Elven-King; Thranduil was resting on his right side, his hair falling around his face and his body covered with a light shirt, and some breeches; his face was completely relaxed and their hands seemed intertwined in a warm embrace of reassurance.

Thorin felt his heart fluttered lightly at the sight, his eyes went from their joined hands to the sleeping form of the elf. He lowered his gaze guiltily, with some reluctance he let go of the elven hand before turning around to face the window. 

The Dwarven-Prince stood up glancing to the snowstorm lashing against the wood of the cottage, he no longer felt discomfort on his muscles and whatever pain or coldness he experience before was no longer there. He turned around and his eyes fell upon the sleeping form of Thranduil, where they were? What happened? How long had he been gone?

He glanced down at himself noticing he too was wearing strange clothes, too big for someone like him, but warm enough to ignore the coldness of winter. He glanced around the room noticing it was small with a single bed, a single chair and a table. The dwarf blinked away his tiredness, his eyes noticing a yellowish light under the door and shadowy figures moving under it. Knowing he needed some answers but not wanting to wake Thranduil up, Thorin made his way towards the door.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes moving to the sleeping form of the elf. For a long time, he stood there just admiring the way the light from the window reflected on the ethereal form of the elf, Thorin wondered just how it could be that someone he thought cold and unpleasant on their first meeting, turned out to be so…alluring. The Dwarven-Prince furrowed his brows shaking his head to scare away such thoughts before he opened the door and left the elf sleeping on the bed.

“Mr Thorin,” as soon as he left the room the man they had saved greeted him with an ample grin; beside him was a young woman who offered a timid smile, “You’re awake! Mr Thranduil is going to be pleased; he has been so worried about you.”

“What happened?” Thorin approached the man warily; his eyes soon took in the room spreading before him.

The house was not big but it was cosy and very homely, the man and woman were sitting on a square table with mugs resting in front of them. The man offered a chair while the woman stood rather fast going to the stove right beside a backdoor.

“I think you passed out right after your fight,” the man shook his head, “frankly, I’m quite surprised you could fight in such a way. You were burning up and for what my wifey tells me with a serious case of lung sickness.”

Thorin watched as the young woman placed a mug and a bowl in front of him, he glanced at both items with his stomach grumbling under the sweet aroma of the soup and the tea.

“Thank you,” Thorin whispered eyeing everything with just a hint of wariness in his blue eyes, the man shook his head glancing at his wife who soon sat beside him.

“I never got to introduced myself, my name is Thormod and she is Sophie, my wife,” the man nodded to Thorin offering a kind smile, “go ahead, you must be thirsty and hungry, don’t worry, Sophie makes the best chicken soup ever!”

Thorin lowered his defences softening slightly as he bowed his head, “thank you for the hospitality and your help.”

The man shook his head, his face changing to one of pure seriousness as the memory of the attack came back to mind.

“It is me and my sons the ones that should thank you and your companion,” Thormod swallowed down glancing at his wife then back to Thorin, “if you haven’t been there I’m afraid we wouldn’t be here and my wife…”

Thorin swallowed down the food, his brows knitted together for he knew what would have happened if Thranduil and himself had not shown on time.

“I’m glad we could make it on time,” Thorin offered while enjoying the taste of the soup, his stomach grumbled gratefully and his body was finally recovering the strength he had lost during the last days.

Thorin lifted his eyes to see the man was glancing at him; he turned around sheepishly with his cheeks red and his wife shooting him a warning glare. The dwarf arched a single eyebrow but the woman merely shook her head glaring at her husband again.

“Mr Thranduil told us about the dragon,” She said softly, “we actually saw him hours before he reached the mountain.”

Thorin tensed completely, his hand stopping midway as his eyes gleamed dangerously with the memory of Smaug. The woman shot him a sympathetic glance, her lips curling up while she pressed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“We were so afraid, but the creature went flying straight forward and then…” tears formed on her eyes and Thorin lowered his gaze along with the spoon he held on his hand “we are sorry about what happened.”

“Mr Thranduil told us you two were lucky enough to escape but got separate from your people,” the man continued when his wife seemed to be incapable of doing so, “I’m sorry to hear about the attack, if there is anything we can do.”

“It was horrible,” Thorin finally spoke and he realized just then these people did not know about their titles or their real positions. Thranduil might have told them something, but he certainly didn’t share everything; this almost made him smile, Thranduil was as cautious as Thorin was.

“We got lost in the wild lands; I am not sure what would happen if we haven’t arrived to the forest when we did,” Thorin then continued eating, the man and his wife nodded before Sophie engaged Thorin on a different topic, the shadow of Smaug forgotten for a moment.

Thorin soon found out about the town, it was a small human settlement lost in time and space in between the great Kingdoms of dwarves and elves. Though the city had yet to see one of the Eldar so far away, they were used to the sight of dwarves and men; the small town survived thanks to the favours of the forest and the nearby river, as well as the oncoming caravans that brought with them goods and news of the outside world. However, Thorin realized no news about Erebor or any survivors had reached the town, it seemed as if Thorin and Thranduil were the first ones to get there. This worried Thorin greatly, but Thormod reassured him telling him as soon as the storm was over they could go to town and see if any news had reached them. Besides, the caravan was supposed to get there by the following week, then they would get the news Thorin was looking for.

It was late into the night when Thorin finally satiated his hunger and Sophie deemed he was doing better. The young woman took him back to his room, her eyes softening as she saw the elf was still fast asleep on the bed.

“We offered him our oldest son’s room, but it was useless, he was always back here to watch over you,” Sophie smiled softly shaking her head while putting a clean shirt and pants on a chair. Thorin was quite shocked discovering this piece of information.

“He was really worried about you,” Sophie smiled at Thorin who had his eyes on the elf, the woman softened slightly seeing the hints of affection in the dwarf’s blue eyes, “I think this is the first time I have seen him sleep.”

“He didn’t need to,” Thorin mumbled looking at Sophie shifting uncomfortably under the knowing glance of the woman, “I told him it was nothing more than the flu…And, we dwarves are made of stronger stuff, he shouldn’t…”

Sophie softened her expression, “I do not think he quite understands how these illness works on mortals.”

Thorin remembered the concern on those fair features, how those eyes seemed to be on him at all times trying to make things easier for him while at the same time trying to take care of everything they needed it. The dwarf knew Sophie was right, Thranduil didn’t seem familiar with illness but it was more than that. Thorin stopped any thoughts for forming on his head; he really should not entertain any strange ideas about the elf, or himself.

“I think he didn’t want to be left alone,” Thorin voiced his thoughts out loud; Sophie opened her eyes and then nodded curtly.

“Yes, that’s right, I guess…he really didn’t want to lose you,” Sophie sighed shaking her head while approaching the door, “I guess I can understand, I don’t think I could fair really well in this world if I were to lose Thormod or my boys. Well, good night, Mr Thorin.”

Thorin stood there for what seemed an eternity, the words of Sophie still dancing in his head while he finally got back to bed. He tensed completely knowing the Elven-King was lying right beside him, his face a complete mask of relaxation, those fair features gleaming with a light of their own. The hand Thorin had been holding was still there waiting for the dwarf to take it again; Thorin scowled deeply drowning down whatever thoughts he might harbour about his changing feelings.

Thranduil was the Elven-King of Mirkwood, his lack of memory had not changed this. When Thranduil remembered he would probably do so with all the old resentment and animosity between their races. Thorin should just keep his word, to bring him back to his people before he himself joined his.

* * *

Morning was not different than the night before.

The snowstorm was raging against the land, the wind roared into the echoing forest just as a white veil with whirling patterns formed before the cottage. The wood crackled under the strong winds, but the place was built to stand such weather; the mattress as well as the covers they were given were enough to make them warm through the night. But even if this was not enough, Thorin knew he owed the comfort of his nights to his companion who had been close enough to provide him with warm and a strange tingling all over his body.

Thorin blinked a couple of times his eyes falling on the window right beside the bed, he let out a yawn jumping startled when a soft voice spoke to his side.

“You’re finally awake,” Thranduil quirked an amuse eyebrow at the dwarf who had jumped to the edge of the bed, his blue eyes glaring at the elf who had not changed his position through the night.

“You are going to kill me one of these days,” Thorin mumbled sitting up; Thranduil snorted incorporating while stretching out.

“I could say the same of you,” Thranduil replied softly, the elf cocked his head and his eyes seemed to make a quick examination of the dwarf, “how are you feeling?”

Thorin pursed his lips stretching out while rolling his shoulders, “better. I think what I really need was a warm bed, and a nice mattress. Pamper much, eh?”

Thorin tried to joke about it, he offered the elf a smile but he dropped it as soon as he saw the expression on Thranduil’s face. He didn’t need to dwell too much to know Thranduil had been concern; the Elven-King was like an open book whatever he was feeling and experiencing was so easily read by Thorin. The Dwarven-Prince pursed his lips looking away under the intense _care_ he saw behind those silver eyes.

“I feel better now, Lady Sophie told me it was a sickness of the lungs,” Thorin commented shrugging, “nothing I had not experienced before…”

“You were unconscious for three days, Thorin,” it was really difficult for Thranduil to keep away the reproach from his voice, he furrowed his brows with his eyes completely focused on the dwarf in front of him, “I thought you…”

Thorin snorted shooting him a half-amused stare, “that I was going to die?”

Thranduil scowled at this turning around while hating just how weak and defenceless he was at the moment. He knew nothing of his relationship with Thorin, but he did know he hated just how vulnerable he made him feel, just how worried he was for him, just how much he…Thranduil shot a defiant glare to the dwarf.

“You shouldn’t have engaged the orcs…”

“It was nothing, believe me, I have seen worse, I’ve been worse.” Thorin tried to sound nonchalantly until he realized Thranduil was really hurt.

“I haven’t seen worse, Thorin,” Thranduil clenched his jaw snorting while facing Thorin with determination trying but failing to conceal just how worried he had been, how much he had feared for Thorin’s well-being, “I don’t think I have seen it.”

The Elven-King lowered his gaze when holding Thorin’s blue eyes became too much for him, Thorin turned to the window then back to Thranduil who now seemed rather distracted by the clothes Sophie brought the night before.

There was a tense silence between them, Thorin was trying to comprehend why the sudden anguish coming from the elf while at the same time trying to convince himself this was nothing more than Thranduil worried about his own fate. It was easier that way.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Thranduil finally confessed while having his eyes completely focused on the clothes on the table, Thranduil remembered the anguish consuming his soul when Thorin did not wake up, when the woman told him he was sick and he had been for quite some time.

In the midst of his confusing life, these emotions the dwarf awoke on him were driving him mad; Thorin turned to look at the elf who was still looking away, Thorin opened his mouth and then closed it again.

The silence and the tension grew between them, Thorin did not dwell too long in this strange conversation though. With stubbornness in his heart and denial in his mind he smiled with a hint of foolish understanding on his face. He remembered what Thranduil had said before about what he would do if Thorin were to get lost. Of course, Thranduil was still worried he would be left alone in a world he didn’t know; there was nothing else there. And Thorin would need to get a hold of himself and his emotions, Thranduil was a King and most importantly, an elf who held not loved for the dwarves of Erebor. The dwarf stirred uncomfortably before clearing his throat to speak again, this time around trying to sound reassuring.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Thorin offered a half-smile to the elf who turned around perplexed, “I won’t die until I make sure you are back with your people, I will keep my word, King Thranduil.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes shaking his head, “that’s not the reason I was worried, Thorin.”

“I know it is, Thranduil,” Thorin replied self-confident with the same infuriating smile on his face and the stubbornness that had always characterized him, “I know you and I are in this together and, well…don’t worry, I am a Prince of my word, so you can count on me to take you back to your family.”

Thranduil stood there with his eyes on Thorin, the dwarf suddenly spotted a glint of sadness there before the elf let out a tired sigh and left the room. The dwarf stood there rather confusedly before he went to change the clothes he was wearing; Thorin never paid any mind to the fact he could not stop thinking about Thranduil or his strange behaviour.

* * *

Thranduil was sitting before the fire; his eyes were watching the patterns of the flames while his ears twitched with each and every sound of the wind and the falling snow. For two days, he and Thorin had shared a strained relationship mixed up with the lives of the inhabitants of the cottage. The Dwarven-Prince did not understand the sudden change in the elf and Thranduil was too upset to explain it to him while Thormod, Sophie and their sons would merely filled in their silence with stories and facts about their lives and the town.

The Elven-King allowed himself a small smile thinking about the children, according to the man they were teenagers near adulthood and it was not difficult to see one of them was pretty taken by the elf. Thranduil had wondered if perhaps his own son was like this, if Legolas resembled him in the same way Jorund resembled his father or if he perhaps resembled his mother the same way Ronnie resembled his. Thranduil sighed when his mind brought back the words of Thorin about the subject; Thorin had told him Legolas was just like him the same shade of golden in his hair, same features though Legolas was more open, more prone to adventure than his father. His eyes though, they were blue, like Thorin’s.

Thranduil thanked this time he got to think, even if all his thoughts usually went back to the only person he felt connect to. The elf leaned back against the chair as he tried to focus his eyes on the fire, this time alone usually helped him sort out his thoughts, what little he had learnt about himself and the few flashes of memory he could gather. He knew he like fish, and he knew he enjoyed his time with Thorin, soon he found himself thinking about the dwarf again and his heart shrank at the thought of the other male. What was he supposed to do? What was expected of him? Thorin had told him he was King, he had made it quite evidently there was no love lost between them as kin and allies, the relationship Mirkwood had with the mountain was political nothing else.

_‘You were rather upset on that last visit, but I do not know what transpire between you and grandfather’_

What if he had forgotten something important? Perhaps, he had forgotten why he hated them, why he _might, should, must_ hate Thorin.

Thranduil lowered his eyes as a wave of desperation grew inside him, those blue eyes of the dwarf gleaming in laughter as they tried to explain how he and his friends got lost in the mines. He saw the dwarf smiling softly at him while telling him what little he knew about Legolas or the Woodland Realm in general. Thranduil forced himself to try and remember if there was something, anything, in there warning him off of the dwarf.

There was nothing but those blue eyes and that arrogant smile of his.

Thranduil tensed as his ears caught the sound of footsteps behind him, he did not need to turn around to know who it was. The rest of the family was fast asleep and it was way too late for any of them to wake up with such a weather.

“You miss it too, eh?”

Thranduil blinked a couple of times before turning tentatively to Thorin who was smiling softy at the fire.

“I think I miss the stars,” he finally confessed hating the fluttering of his heart and the confusion in his mind.

Thorin snorted shaking his head, “of course you missed them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thranduil inquired arching a brow at the amuse dwarf.

“Elves,” Thorin said in a teasing tone, Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Thorin he could see even if the dwarf was smiling there was tension on his eyes and the curved of his mouth.

“Dwarves,” Thranduil finally replied with the same teasing tone.

They turned their attention back to the fire and the tension of the last two days started easing up around them. Thorin tilted his head to the side taking in the form of the sitting elf beside him, he did not know how much he missed Thranduil until they were in this house and the elf had someone else to speak to. In the last couple of days after he woke up something came in between them, but he was pretty sure it was neither the family nor the young man who seemed pretty enamored with the elf. Thorin had tried to discover what it was but…

“I see you have adapted to the life in the cottage pretty quickly,” Thorin finally commented decided to break the silence between them, “Lady Sophie and young Jorund seemed pretty taken by you.”

Thranduil opened his eyes in surprised and, for some reason, he was rather bashful when he spoke. This only made Thorin scowl and for some reason a piercing pain went through his heart when he heard Thranduil speaking about them with longing and delight.

“Lady Sophie is quite a marvel, a strong woman who had been dealing with her boys with a strong yet gentle hand,” Thranduil offered a half smile, “and young Jorund is about to reach adulthood, he is strong, noble and pretty smart and funny. I could not sit idle while they tend to us so I offer my help and they seem to appreciate it, Jorund has been quite a marvel and I have learnt a lot from him.”

“They are good people,” Thorin said softly and after a moment of hesitation he placed his hand on top of Thranduil’s one, the tension between them grew for a moment thought this time around both males could say this was completely different to the one they had experienced in the last days.

With some reluctance Thorin lifted his face and he found himself looking into Thranduil’s silver eyes.

“I understand your need to help around; it is not fair we take more than we have to. It is obvious they are not as fortunate as we are,” Thorin saw as those elven features softened.

“I can see that Thormod and Ronnie seemed pretty taken by you,” Thranduil replied teasingly, “they were really amazed when you help with the hinges of the doors.”

Thorin smirked puffing up his chest, “that’s nothing; it’s an easy work we learnt from an early age.”

Thranduil chuckled though Thorin could see the shadow of what Thranduil had lost in the mountain; it was always there whenever someone mentioned their likes or dislikes, their abilities or their hobbies. In those moments, Thranduil would withdraw from the conversation with a lost glint on his eyes. Thorin then squeezed the hand he had been touching reassuringly, Thranduil offered a soft smile that lit up his whole face. The wind outside the cottage whistled furiously, the blizzard slashed with violence against the cottage creating a strange sound around them, their heartbeats resounding in their ears at the strangeness of the moment. Thorin opened his mouth a little his eyes twinkling strangely before he let go of the hand and turned to face the fire.

The flames flickered and the moment was broken, Thranduil swallowed down lowering his disappointed eyes before he too went back to the contemplation of the fireplace.

“There is a song…” Thorin started taking a deep breath, he glanced at Thranduil out of the corner of his eyes before he opened his mouth and his deep, baritone voice intoned a sweet melody that made Thranduil stirred with longing.

That night something changed in between them, and yet everything remained the same.

* * *

They were trapped in the cottage for two weeks.

Thorin was thankful to the family that had taken them in the midst of such strange circumstances. The family had been ready for winter with supplies and food to last them for a month; however, they did not count their two unexpected visitors so Thorin took it upon himself to help around and a promise to return the favour as soon as the weather was favourable to them. Of course, Thormod had tried to tell him this was not necessary but both, Thorin and Thranduil, felt it was the least they could do for them; besides, they still needed some guidance and help to continue their trip.

That’s how for two weeks, Thorin and Thranduil started working around helping whenever it was needed it or simply sharing their time with the family, all the while sharing their nights as they had done so since they left Erebor: together. Now that the blizzard seemed to have receded they were back to reality and what awaited them far beyond the town.

There was now small snowflakes falling on the land, the cold was still there but at least now they could go outside and observed the white morning and enjoy the stretching of their limbs and the sweet aroma of winter in the air. Thorin watched amusedly as Ronnie and Jorund started ploughing the snow from the road so they could get the carriage out of the barn.

Thorin trembled under the cold of the morning, his lips broke into a content smile when a blue mug was presented to him and he saw Thranduil offering him tea. They shared a soft smile as their eyes turned to the two young men now competing to see who worked faster.

“Thank you,” Thorin mumbled watching as Thranduil took his mug to his lips, those silver eyes were sweeping around the land.

“They intend to go to the town,” Thranduil said offhandedly lowering his gaze to the dwarf who was nodding thoughtfully, “would you like us to go as well?”

Thorin turned to Thranduil nodding curtly, “I think we should go we need to see if someone has heard anything about Erebor and survivors, and well…we need to see if there is any way for us to get supplies so we can continue our journey.”

Thranduil dropped his shoulders in disappointment; these last days had been amazing. There was no other word Thranduil could use to describe the moments he had shared with Thorin, this time around in the protection of a home with warm meals and nice company. He had gotten used to Thorin always being by his side, talking and narrating those absurd stories of his. He was getting used to his smile and his eyes and then, the reality of what they were supposed to do came back. They needed to continue, Thorin needed to go to his people and Thranduil…

The elf felt lost and this had nothing to do with his memory and everything to do with Thorin.

The elf returned his attention to the tea he had in front of him, a tingling sensation covering his heart as he remembered those blue eyes looking at him intently the night before as he sang a dwarvish song about a faraway land; Thranduil shook his head furrowing his brows, he needed to stop whatever it was growing in his heart. He could not afford to form any kind of bond with the dwarf, things between them were uncertain but most importantly Thorin had shown him nothing more than friendship and companionship. Nothing else, nothing more.

“Are you alright?” Thorin turned to the elf his hand placing softly on the elf’s forearm, Thranduil tried to offer a smile but it came out as a grimace, “Thranduil…”

“It’s nothing, forgive me I think Lady Sophie may need me inside the house,” Thranduil turned around leaving a very confused Thorin behind.

The dwarf lowered his eyes dejected, his hand still feeling the warm coming from the elf.

* * *

They weren’t ready until next day in which they left the cottage early in the morning so everyone had time to enjoy the marbles of the small town. Sophie stayed behind waving good-bye before getting back into her home.

The town of Túnsberg was thirty minutes away from Thormod’s home; it was a small combination of cottages and middle size edifications surrounded by a great forest and the shadow of faraway mountains. Thormod had told them the city survived thanks to the forest and the river and the many caravans coming from Erebor and the cities that still resided at the mountainside in the Grey Mountains. Their people were kind with travellers but they were not use to the sight of dwarves and much less to the sight of elves so the both of them were advised of the many stares they would get.

Soon, Thorin and Thranduil knew Thormod was not joking or exaggerating when he told them the people of Túnsberg was not used to dwarves or elves. Many had come forth to greet the newcomers, and some others could not help but shot curious glances their way; Thorin soon found himself rather annoyed at the influx of attention Thranduil was receiving and how many of the men and women around the town seemed rather entrance with the natural beauty of the elf.

“You seem to gather a lot of looks, Mr Thranduil,” Jorund pursed his lips glaring at whoever even dare to try and approached them, Thranduil seemed rather amused by this protectiveness noticing Jorund was not the only one in a sour mood.

“Well, Jorund, he is an elf and, with all due respect Mr Thranduil you are quite a catch,” Ronnie said laughing as his younger brother hit him on the arm.

“Yes, yes, yes, everyone is always awestruck under the ethereal beauty of the elves,” Thorin grumbled annoyed ignoring the glance Thranduil was sending his way.

Ronnie then came forth glancing around shaking his head, “but, Master Thorin, you are also getting quite the looks from everyone, especially Rose and her friends.”

Thorin straightened up glancing over to where Ronnie was trying to look at, in a corner near a very nice home was a young woman with dark hair and clear eyes; she was surrounded by three other young women that were all glancing directly at the dwarf. For some reason this made him smile, Thorin was used to the glances he got in Erebor, he knew he was handsome, taller for a dwarf and well-built; but most of the time the attention he got was due to his status. It was rarely because of his looks much less for his personality and, while he had enjoyed pleasurable times with both male and female dwarves, he had yet to discover the wonders of being with a human…or an elf.

Here Thorin stopped his curious staring to turn to Thranduil, the elf was staring down at him with something strange gleaming in his silver eyes before Jorund claimed the elf’s attention.

“Man, you’re lucky,” Ronnie said shaking his head, “Rose is by far the most beautiful woman around.”

Thorin chuckled as he decided to change the topic of conversation while Thormod guided them to the official in charge of the town. Thormod had tried to convince them there was no need for them to repay them, they had saved their lives after all but Thorin and Thranduil were very adamant of this thus Thormod suggested Jon could help them get some odd jobs around to gather what they needed.

The man lived in the farthest part of the town, he had a great house of three storeys and a garden that, at another time, would be filled with flowers and herbs but right now was covered by a thick layer of snow. The man was past his middle age with black and silver hair, his face was marked by time and the harshness of life; his eyes were as dark as his hair, with just the right amount of intelligence gleaming in them.

“Thormod! How did the storm treat you and your family?” the man approached the newcomers, his eyes moving from Thormod to Thorin and Thranduil.

“It was pretty rough but…” here Thormod trailed to point with his head to his companions, “As you can see, it was pretty eventful.”

“So, I see. An elf and a dwarf! My, I have never seen one of the beautiful race wander so far from their crystal palaces up in the west or the south, or wherever it is they resided,” the man, Jon, said caressing his chin, then his eyes moved to Thorin and here he smirked, “dwarves I had seen, plenty of them. Make business with one or two, what are you two doing so far from home?”

The man certainly was not subtle, and he did not possess any skills in diplomacy his eyes wandered without any restriction from Thorin to Thranduil and there they stayed. Thorin shifted uncomfortably glancing at Thormod who nodded at the dwarf as if this was a normal behaviour from the other man’s part.

“My name is Thorin from Erebor, and this is my companion and friend Thranduil from the Woodland Realm,” Thorin made a short bow of his head while Thranduil offered a simple tilt.

“Erebor? You really are far from home. What brings you two my good sires to this part of the world?”

Thorin glanced at Thormod then back at Thranduil, they had agreed for them to get honest answers they need to be truthful with this people. Thorin shifted slightly glancing at the man who was highly concentrated on Thranduil.

“They saved my life, mine and that of my children,” Thormod explained offering a tiny smile, “Gregg…did not make it. We were attacked by orcs.”

“Orcs?” Here Jon turned to Thormod who nodded gravelly at the man, then Jon turned to Thorin and Thranduil again.

“It is a long story but, Erebor was attacked by a dragon and we were lucky enough to escape,” Thorin tried to explain with a hurry though he soon found himself rather annoyed by the waving hands of the official and those eyes gleaming at Thranduil.

“A dragon? Orcs? Please, tell me you two won’t bring any troubles to Túnsberg, we are but humble people with nothing but our houses and families,” the man warned but before Thorin could say something Thormod intervened.

“Now, Jon, I’m just telling you they saved my life, even after having run from theirs and almost dying on the wild lands,” Thormod explained furrowing his brows, “They just want to know if there is any honest job for them to make some money or get some provisions so they can continue with their journey.”

Jon caressed his chin again; those black eyes were back to Thranduil who, so far, had remained impassive while studying the land and the man standing in front of him.

“Well, I know old Tom is needing some help, his two oldest are out town down the west fold waiting for the caravan,” Jon commented, “it seems there was a delay and they will be here by tomorrow or the next day.”

“The caravan was delay?” Thormod inquired quite surprised, Jon nodded his head and he turned his attention to Thorin and Thranduil briefly, “the youngest lad is sick and Rose has been helping him taken care of the lad while he tries to keep up with all the work, it seems this storm made his business flourished.”

Thormod opened his eyes delight turning to Thorin and then to Thranduil, “That would be perfect! Mr Thorin here is great with the hammer and I’m pretty sure Mr Thranduil is not too far behind in ability.”

Thranduil hid away his smile watching as Thorin shifted out proudly; Jon made a face of agreement though his eyes soon went to Thranduil again. Thorin could not help the annoyance in him as the man seemed to always go back to the elf.

“I may not be as good as Thorin is with his hands, but I can certainly help him in this,” Thranduil said before Jon could say anything else.

The man seemed disappointed, “too bad, I was thinking you can help me…”

“No, I think you are not aware but Thranduil here is even better than me working around a forge or anything in general,” Thorin interrupted the man much to Thranduil’s surprised, “if this man, Tom is agreeable to the idea, I think we can work some until the caravan gets here, help around and perhaps earn something to pay you back, Lord Thormod.”

Tom shrugged glancing at a smiling Thormod; Jon was leading the way down the road to the blacksmith’s home with Thormod by his side. Thorin and Thranduil were walking behind the men, Ronnie and Jorund had parted long ago to deal with some products they had brought and attend to their own works in the town. Thranduil approached Thorin his hand brushing lightly the dwarf’s arm.

“Am I good with the forge?” Thranduil asked amusedly once they were out of earshot, Thorin huffed hiding away his blush.

“You’re an elf, you lot are good at everything,” Thorin replied refusing to look back to Thranduil, “besides, I…”

“What?”

“I didn’t like the way this man, Jon, was looking at you…us! At us,” Thorin corrected rather quickly, his heart beating fast when the hand of the elf fell on his shoulder, “and, I thought we could…”

“I didn’t want to be away from you either,” Thranduil finally confessed, Thorin froze on the spot shooting an inquisitive stare to the elf, Thranduil shifted shrugging lightly, “I just…I am not comfortable being away from you.”

Thorin pursed his lips nodding and then they were back on following Thormod and Jon to the blacksmith’s house. Both of them deep in confusing thoughts.

*****

Tom was a middle-age man, tall and well-build with strong arms and ample chest. He had scars all over his body, scars he wore proudly and that he had gotten all through his life while working on the forges or on the land. He was a widowed and left with three sons, two of them were already down the road helping the oncoming caravan and the youngest one was down with the flu thus the man was left alone to attend the business. Since the storm had been bad, many had come to him to get their doors, windows or general appliances fixed and now he had more work than hands to help around.

The man had accepted the help and, as soon as he scattered the curious who wanted to meet Thorin and Thranduil he went to work. Soon, Thranduil discovered Thorin had not lied, elves were good at everything. He had caught up rather quickly with the explanation and, while at first he was reluctant to grab the hammer or the tong or even to work near the anvil, once he got to start his work he found himself highly distracted and quite happy with the work of his hands. And, as it turned out, Thranduil didn’t have to work on the forge, that work was reserved for Thorin who soon found himself without a shirt and quite entertained by the fire and the work he knew so well.

Whatever was in his past, whatever it was Thranduil ignored about himself and who he was before Erebor; he was completely sure right now and at that very moment, he was not in different to dwarves. Or males. Or Thorin. And he hated the fact his eyes would drift from time to time to the other male who would shot him a quick smirk while working around knowing all too well Thranduil had been looking at him.

However, by the end of the day Thranduil was regretting his decision to follow Thorin and worked alongside him.

Around midday the young woman they had seen early in the morning showed up bringing with her a basket full of medicine and food. Rose was the daughter of the apothecary and was learning the arts of healing thus she was in charge of the health of Tom’s youngest son.

The young woman was a delight, she greeted Thranduil modesty offering a gentle smile and kind words before her attention turned completely to Thorin.

“My, it is so nice to see new faces around here,” she said with a soft blush adorning her cheeks and her eyes completely focused on Thorin.

Thranduil wound that the young woman was being flirtatious, and her attention had been caught by the sight of Thorin and his half naked body. What was worse and made Thranduil upset was the fact Thorin was not indifferent to the attention. He offered a charming smile on its own, introducing himself by name before taking the young lady’s hand in his and kissing her knuckles.

“I must say I was not aware the people around here were so charming and beautiful, or else, I would have come sooner and with better conditions,” Thorin replied to which the young woman giggled shaking her head.

“Oh, you must say that to all the young ladies you meet around,”

“No, believe me, I hardly lie about these matters,” Thorin replied shooting her a huge grin and a wink.

“Rose! I knew I heard your voice, how are you?” Tom came from the second floor fixing his apron while greeting the young woman who soon turned her attention to Tom.

“I’m pretty good, Tom, thank you for asking.” The young lady lifted the basket, “I brought food and medicine, if you excuse me I will see little Thormund.”

“Go ahead, go ahead…”

Thranduil had sat there watching the whole interaction with a heavy heart, and something painful piercing through his very core. His eyes soon found those of Thorin and those blue orbs flickered lightly before the dwarf turned around back to his own work.

The rest of the afternoon Thranduil busied himself with some hinges he had been fixing while completely ignoring the interaction between _Rose_ and Thorin. The young woman would laugh at whatever stupid thing Thorin had said and the worse of all was Thorin would just lean in for some innocent brushing or touching. It was pretty evident Thorin loved the attention, and Thranduil was just thankful he had put the shirt back on himself because, really? After that woman had touch the hairy chest of the dwarf Thranduil broke two of the metal planks he had been working with.

Thorin had fixed his hair in a high bun while his beard had been combed neatly on his face, it made him look fiercer and rather attractive, it show off his rough features adorned by those deep blue eyes and his confidence born out of his title and upbringing.

The elf tried to get his emotions under control while working on his task, but every once in a while he would see as the young lady would come closer to Thorin while the dwarf would whispered something that made her laugh or blush, Rose would never missed a chance to shot Thorin a shy smile, or fluttered her eyelashes or let her fingertips caressed those strong arms or a teasing brush on the dwarf’s beard. And, every time Thorin would return the gestures, he would smile at her or their hands would brush almost innocently Thranduil felt something inside him break until, by the end of the day he was cold and empty wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world around him.

“Master elf!” Tom opened his eyes quite impressed at the work done by the elf, “you made all of these on your own?”

“I did, yes. Once I got the basics it was rather easy,” Thranduil replied finding strange the glint of appreciation and admiration from the man.

“I’ve heard of the elves’ abilities but…by the gods, I did not know it was this good,” Tom chuckled shaking his head while shooting the elf a quick glance, “say you really miss your people too much? Because I can offer you a spot in my store, it’s not much but it’ honest work.”

Thranduil smiled politely at the man bowing his head in acknowledgement, “you are too kind, Master Tom, but I am afraid me and my companion are needed back with our people.”

But as he said this the laughter of Rose reached their ears and soon Tom and Thranduil saw as Thorin and the young lady entered the workshop rather flustered and sharing some amazing story Thranduil was sure he didn’t want to hear.

“Well, you know? If you’re not interested I would say Master Thorin might,” Tom never realized the shadow that went through those silver eyes, or the broken expression on the elf’s face, the man merely chuckled shaking his head, “youth these days is quite unpredictable.”

“Rose! How is everything going?” Tom exclaimed shooting the young lady a knowing grin, the young lady pressed her lips together though she never lost her flirty demeanour.

“Everything is fine, Tom, Thormund is fast asleep and the fever is gone.” Rose turned to Thorin her eyelashes lowering lightly as she tilted her head, “it was really nice to meet you, Master Thorin; I hope we can see each other again.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Lady Rose,” at this Thorin grabbed the young woman’s hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, Thranduil took a deep breath rolling his eyes while Tom snorted shaking his head.

“And, I believe we were invited to some drink in the pub, if you are not averse to the idea of accompanying us later on...”

“Oh, no, of course not.” The young lady offered one last smile before leaving with Thorin following her with his eyes.

“Dwarves are really smooth bastards,” Tom said quite amused by this.

After a while, Thorin turned around but he was pretty careful as to not look in Thranduil’s direction, the elf grabbed the few planks he had made with a heavy heart trying to distract himself while Tom took his apron off of him.

“Well, I guess they are really waiting for us at the pub, I heard all the town was going to be there because you two have a great story to tell us,” Tom then turned his eyes to the second floor, “Let me see if my lad needs something before we go.”

Thranduil tensed knowing they were left alone; he entertained himself straining his ears to hear if perhaps Thorin had come closer. His heart was beating painfully hard on his chest when the dwarf stood beside him, his hand stretched out to grab one of the hinges Thranduil had been working on.

“This is amazing, not a single mark.” Thorin mumbled trying to catch the eyes of the elf, “so, you turn out to be rather good at this, eh?”

“Yes, once I got the basics, it was pretty easy,” Thranduil replied softly he winced at his own weakness for he could not look away from Thorin for too long.

His silver eyes found those blue orbs and Thranduil discovered with sorrow in his heart those eyes were gleaming excitedly and the dwarf had the same smile he wore all day while speaking with Rose.

“You have a good time,” Thranduil said and he tried to smile but his lips refused to obey, Thorin adjusted his position lowering his eyes so as not to face Thranduil.

“I did, Rose seemed like a good lass and…” Thorin shrugged, “It’s nice to have this kind of attention, don’t you think?”

Thranduil clenched his jaw shrugging, “I wouldn’t know.”

Thorin was about to say something when Tom appeared before them grinning happily.

“Well, we shall go then, night is about to fall and you two would need to go back to Thormod’s cottage before night is old,” Tom said putting on a jacket and going to the door.

Thorin tried to catch Thranduil’s attention but the elf seemed rather preoccupied and quite focused on ignoring him. Thorin pursed his lips slightly confused by this but soon he was engaged in conversation by Tom and, just as he had done to Thranduil, Tom also offered Thorin a spot on his store.

“Besides, young Rose seemed quite enthralled by you,” Tom said with the right amount of reproach in his voice, “She is one of the most beautiful ladies around here, you would be quite lucky.”

Thorin opened his eyes shaking his head, “please, Master Tom, she is quite a charming lady and while I would be more than happy to stay, I have a duty with my people and my companion.”

Thorin smiled turning to Thranduil who was now shooting him a pretty broken stare, the elf straightened up moving past them to the only building in town with a bright light and sound of merriment.

“Please, Thorin, do not stop yourself and your needs for me,” Thranduil replied rather coldly, “If you point me in the right direction, I think I can quite manage everything by myself.”

Tom turned to Thorin who was now furrowing his brows in puzzle, the man chuckled shrugging. He was not about to understand how the minds of elves worked, Thorin for his part followed Thranduil until the elf entered the pub and some of the noise stopped to welcome the newcomer.

Everyone in the pub seemed rather fascinate with Thranduil and Thorin, it was not every day they had a dwarf and an elf on their lands so all the presents were shooting questions left and right wanting to know more about these strangers. Thranduil sat a little away from the main table leaving Thorin to do the talking, soon everyone understood the elf was not as talkative as the dwarf though this did not prevent from many of the presents in the pub to try and get the elf’s attention one way or another.

In the end, while everyone spoke and post their questions Thranduil ended up with young Jorund by his side sharing some small talk while also hearing the conversation going on around the main table.

“Enough! Enough!” Jon said lifting his hands, he pointed a finger to Thorin and Thranduil smiling as he slapped the table, “I want to know how did you safe Thormod and his boys!”

“Yes! That’s right!” another man exclaimed patting Thormod on his shoulder, “we heard about Gregg, though, we sorry about it.”

Thormod nodded gravelly glancing at his mug, “For Gregg! The best friend we can ask for!”

Every single man and woman in the establishment lifted their pint before taking a long draft from their ale, and then all curious eyes turned to Thorin who knew he could no longer delay the story. Between Thormod and Thorin narrated what had happened before Thormod was attacked by the orcs and how Thorin and Thranduil got on time to save their lives. Everyone was at the edge of their seats while Thranduil couldn’t help but glance at Thorin rather fondly as he continue his narration with just the right details and the right hand gestures, his mood though soon soured as he realized Rose had arrived and her eyes were seeking out to Thorin.

“But, where did the dragon show in this story?” Tom inquired and this time around Thorin did turn to Thranduil who looked back at him with an unreadable expression.

For a moment Thorin felt dejected as if something had been placed in between Thranduil and himself and he could no longer reached the elf, if Thorin were to place this feeling he would say it was just like when Thranduil had first arrived to the mountain. As if he finally remembered who he was and what he felt for the dwarves. For Thorin.

“Erebor was destroyed by a dragon,” Thorin finally said gravelly, solemnly with his heart breaking just a little when he finally said those words out loud.

Thranduil stirred on his chair ready to offer comfort to Thorin when his eyes fell upon Rose who sat right beside Thorin with a broken-hearted expression on her face. Rose made a gesture so a new pint was brought while she placed a hand on top of Thorin’s one.

“That’s horrible, would you mind telling us what happen?”

Thranduil flickered at the gesture that was not missed by some of the males in the room; he clenched his jaw lowering his gaze wishing more than anything he was somewhere else. Soon the pub turned gloomy and quiet as Thorin started narrating what had happened the day Smaug attacked, in all this time he was pretty careful not to mention his status or that of Thranduil while trying to make his father and his grandfather as the leaders everyone expected them to be. As Thorin spoke of that day his mind was soon invaded by the memories of Smaug attacking his homeland taking from him everything he held dear. Thorin remembered the dragon fire, the wounds he thought were forgotten came back with a vengeance and he realized there was still pain and desperation in his heart, there was still a need to know what had happened to his people and his family.

And, as the night advanced and Thorin continued with his narration the world became colder and darker and many could finally see the shadow of the dragon hunting the eyes of the dwarf and the blank indifference coming from the elf.

Many thought Thranduil insensible, a creature that felt no sympathy or pain for other races; what would he fear if he had the gift of immortal life and immortal beauty? No one could understand Thranduil was suffering in silence. He was suffering for what he lost and could not recall, for the family he had yet to meet and for the people he was supposed to lead. But most importantly, no one saw the suffering and the breaking of his heart as his silver eyes found the hand of Rose tightly wrapped around the one of Thorin. And thus everyone judged Thranduil while everyone else offered their sympathies to Thorin.

The night moved forward and, while the merriment was back and the ale was passed around, no one really noticed as Thranduil hid in the shadows, longing for something he could never had. Trying to hold to those pieces of his life that he could recollect in his mind; no one really noticed just how lost he was, how his whole world, the world he had known since waking up in the caverns of Erebor, sneaked around with a young lady until they found themselves protected by the shadows of the outside world.

Thranduil would suffer in silence because there was nothing else he could do when his silver eyes broke whenever Rose and Thorin touched surreptitiously, or when they would share a private conversation. No one could really see when the heart of the elf broke in a million pieces when he caught sight of Thorin sharing a kiss with the young woman.

No, definitely no one could know Thranduil did have feelings, and that his heart and soul had been shattered in a single instant.

*****

It had started snowing by the time they were making their way back home.

Ronnie and Jorund were talking rather animatedly, their conversation soon turned to what else was beyond the outskirts of their town. The story about Thorin fighting heroically against a dragon was enough to ignite the flame of adventure in the young men. Thormod had shaken his head, if he was honest with himself he did not believe everything Thorin had told them, but he was pretty sure most of it was real. He glanced at his boys not wanting to shatter their hopes about great adventures.

He and Thorin were now following their boys while Thranduil seemed to walk right behind them; the elf had been awfully quiet with just a hint of sadness on his features.

“Mr Thranduil looks…strange,” Thormod said eyeing the dwarf to see his reaction.

Thorin furrowed his brows shrugging slightly annoyed by the strange behaviour of the elf and how easily he had brushed Thorin’s attempts to engage him in conversation.

“I really wouldn’t know, Lord Thormod, the manners of the elves are strange to me as much as they are to you,” Thorin grumbled crossing his arms.

Thormod raised a single eyebrow wondering if perhaps he should tell Sophie about this, “Well, I don’t know about that, it’s just…he really looks gloomy, perhaps you should talk to him?”

Thorin grumbled again though he did glance at the elf out of the corner of his eyes, they were getting closer to the cottage and he had also noticed the change of mood from the elf.

“Perhaps, once we get home,” Thorin then turned the conversation around asking Thormod where they could get supplies for their oncoming trip and if perhaps the caravan would bring any news to town.

Thranduil had tried to calm his stormy thoughts, he tried to erase from his mind the moment he discovered the kiss in between Thorin and Rose, but it was getting difficult to get that image out of his mind. He tried to think about his son and he cursed the world and his luck for his memory was still elusive and all he could think and feel and remember was Thorin son of Thráin.

“Are you alright?” Thorin’s voice reached him out with concern dripping from his tone; the dwarf had tried to engage him in some sort of conversation but had failed miserably, “you were awfully quiet today.”

“There was nothing I could say now, was it? I do not recall any of that and anyway everyone seems rather interest in you, not me.”

Thorin blinked perplexed when Thranduil moved faster until he was inside the house, Thorin stood there blinking away his confusion until he realized Thormod was glancing at him shaking his head.

“Come, Master dwarf, I think you will have a long night,”

And a long night he had.

As soon as he came into the house, Sophie had gone to Thranduil guiding him to some place on the second storey of the house. Thorin was a little baffled by this but soon he realized up until that day he and Thranduil had sleep on the same bed, on the same room without any need to. There was another room, and for that night, Thranduil would be sleeping there; that night, Thorin could not sleep, and it wasn’t because he had kissed a woman.

It was because the bed felt far too big, and he was cold. And alone.

******

Thranduil lay on the bed glancing at the ceiling.

He did not like what he was feeling, this sudden brokenness in his soul at seeing Thorin attentive to the attention of the females in the pub. Or to the not so subtle advances of Rose, he clenched his fists because this kind of emotions should not affect him. He had known Thorin for no more than a couple of weeks, and he really did not know who was waiting for him back in the forest to go around playing with his own emotions and feelings for the dwarf. For all Thranduil knew he had a wife or a lover waiting for him, for all he knew Thorin had a lover as well…perhaps, he was not agreeable to male company but only to female company.

And, now that he was thinking about it, what made Thranduil so sure he was agreeable to male company? Thranduil snorted turning around to glance at the window. He really should not ask questions he did not want answers for.

That night, Thranduil drawn in desperation and loneliness, his soul pulsating at the lack of warm on the bed he was in. His mind a pool of confusing thoughts, and his heart….His heart longing for something he could not understand and he was pretty sure he could never had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Now, they really are fools, next time the caravan will come and they will get some news. Thranduil is still quite miserable and Thorin realized he really misses the elf.


	7. The Caravan

**Chapter 7**

**The Caravan**

It had been more than three days since Thorin and Thranduil had started working on the town of Túnsberg. The news of caravan of merchants and entertainers being delayed by weather and circumstance had worried the town greatly. More so after they heard the story of a dragon attacking one of the strongholds of Middle Earth; after that night on the town’s pub Thorin had become a public figure everyone wanted to get to know better. The Dwarven-Prince had put in practice his training as a Prince after that; he carried himself with easiness always reassuring the townsfolk that danger would not reach their city and that they should fear nothing but the unmerciful winter. Everyone was ready to look for him for light conversations, stories about the mountain or simply for a light drink; many had already talked amongst themselves about the growing friendship of the dwarf with Rose, and many had already whispered that, perhaps, Thorin would not be adverse to the idea of staying behind in their town.

Thranduil had been watching these interactions from afar, his eyes always following the figure of Thorin who got on as a leader amongst men who had not known war or danger beyond their borders. In those moments, when the elven eyes followed Thorin around conversing and working around with the men and women of the town, the Elven-King could not help but feel alone. What came easy to Thorin was extremely difficult for Thranduil; the elf found himself on unknown territory when trying to engage someone in meaningful conversation, his tone of voice turned cold and commanding, and some people would just look at him strangely before leaving him alone.

This brought to Thranduil the problem at hand.

Thranduil had realized just how much he relied on Thorin, how attached he had become to the dwarf and how much he had allowed himself to feel for the other male. Thorin was a beacon to a past he ignored, and he was the hope to an uncertain future Thranduil was not sure how to approach. The elven-king had tried to dismiss the warm those blue eyes brought to him, or the peace he experienced whenever Thorin spoke to him of everything and nothing. A part of Thranduil, the logical one, told him his feelings could be a result of Thorin being the first face he saw when waking up. That his affections were no more than friendship for someone who really did not owed him anything at all. Another part of him, though was longing for something he could not comprehend.

That was the reason as to why seeing Thorin and Rose shared a kiss hurt so much. Because Thranduil realized Thorin was tied to him for an obligation he acquired the day Smaug attacked; it was a life debt the dwarf was ready to pay after Thranduil had been with him from the very beginning. And these thoughts made Thranduil broken; his soul flickered with sorrow as he realized just how foolish he had been for feeding hope all this time. Thranduil discovered himself alone and broken. He became aware of his situation; of how lost he was how much he had lost on that fateful day; knowing he was an Elven-King was not enough, he didn’t feel like a King and thus loneliness and sorrow filled his heart and mind just as Thorin gave his back to him to enjoy the attention.

The morning was already breaking in the horizon by the time Thranduil finished fixing the windows on the Meeting Hall. This would be the third day since they had started working on Túnsberg, and in the midst of this situation, Thranduil found himself liking the manual work Tom offered him for the time being. The Elven-King had discovered with great fascination he was good at this kind of work, fixing things and working around the workshop was enough to put his mind an ease and made him forget his own desperation.

His silver eyes drifted away from his handiwork to see Jorund and Tom were coming towards him, the young man was balancing two mugs of a hot beverage while Tom was admiring the work on the Meeting Hall.

“Master Thranduil, again you are showing an ability I never thought so natural on an elf,” Tom scratched his chin smiling a little. “We brought tea and came to help with the door.”

“Thank you,” Thranduil grabbed the mug offering a half smile to Jorund who smile back.

“How come you’re not tired, Mr Thranduil?” Jorund spoke shaking his head, “I swear to you I am tired right now, and I got a good night of sleep.”

Thranduil shrugged flickering his eyes away from the young man, “We do not need as much sleep as mortals seemed to require.”

Jorund nodded as if understanding, Tom nodded appreciatively at this.

“I wish I could do something like that, the amount of things I could do with little to no sleep,” Tom then rubbed his hands. “Do you know where Master Thorin is? I don’t think he was at the workshop.”

Thranduil pursed his lips for he knew the answer to such a question. It had not been difficult for Thranduil to discover Thorin now preferred the company of the young woman Rose. The Elven-King busied himself with the tea ignoring the inquisitive stare Tom sent his way.

“He is with Rose,” Jorund said slightly annoyed, he shot Thranduil a quick glance then turned to Tom, “I think he is by the apothecary.”

Tom snorted shaking his head and mumbling about cheeky dwarves taking away all the good –looking women in the town. The older man then turned to his materials getting ready to work on the gate, Jorund the turned to Thranduil who had his eyes fixed on the sky.

“Mr Thranduil, are you alright?” Thranduil turned to Jorund softening slightly when he realized in the midst of his youthful crush towards the elf Jorund was honest in his actions. He had been great companion in the last few days, him and Sophie, Thranduil swallowed down his tea nodding sharply.

“I’m perfectly fine, Jorund, don’t worry.”

Jorund opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, “I don’t think is fair…if you ask me, you are better looking than Rose.”

And then, with a blush adorning his face, Jorund turned around and went to help Tom. Thranduil sighed his heart fluttering in sympathy at the comment, his eyes turning to the road where he knew the apothecary was located. At least someone thought he was better looking than Rose, Thranduil took a long sip from his tea and then proceed to help Tom and Jorund.

It took them about two hours to fix the gates and make sure they were rightly adjusted to the threshold. By the time they had finished the town was buzzing with activity as a snow flurry fell on the land; Tom admired the work grinning widely as everything was already set and ready to receive the caravan. The man and Jorund told Thranduil this place was usually used by the merchants to put their stands and offer their goods since the entertainers would bring their own marquee.

“Well, it seems we finally finished,” Tom cleared up his forehead shaking his head as his eyes took in the elf who didn’t seem tired not sweaty for the work, “you don’t look tired at all! Not even break a sweat!”

Thranduil offered a half smile shrugging, “Perks of being an elf, I guess.”

Tom laughed shaking his head, many townsfolk were wary of the blond-haired male but Tom had come to like him. He was quiet but a great worker, some would say he was cold but Tom was pretty sure this was more of an _elf thing_ than anything else; he had spoken with Thranduil and had seen him while working, the elf was anything but cold or apathetic. Tom had a feeling the elf was more sensitive that he let on, but then again he could be judging the situation wrong; after all, this was the first time he met with one of the Eldar.

“Man, I’m starving.” Jorund commented grabbing his stomach, just when Tom was about to propose a late breakfast a great commotion reached them.

Many started talking animatedly and moving towards the north side of the town, Tom furrowed his brows moving in until one of the men told him the caravan had arrived.

“They’re here! They got here, Tom! Your boys are looking for you!”

Tom smiled back at Thranduil who had straightened up approaching the road as well, everyone seemed to go to where the caravan was just getting into town many celebrating or talking amongst themselves.

“This is weird,” Jorund pursed his lips just as Tom moved past them.

“What is it?”

Jorund shrugged, “they usually are more…noisy when they get here. I guess something must have happened.”

Thranduil furrowed his brows, “perhaps the weather was worse than we thought, come we should probably move closer and see what’s going on.”

Thranduil and Jorund soon went after Tom, the Elven-King pursed his lips watching as many townsfolk seemed excited about the arrival of the caravan but some others seemed reserved, it seemed many of them thought the same as young Jorund. The newcomers had arrived without so much of a tired stroll.

The Elven-King watched from afar as the newcomers were received by clapping youngsters and happy people, his eyes soon fell upon Jon who stretched the hand of a white-haired male talking lowly while the rest of the caravan started making way into the town. Thranduil watched this caravan was made of men and women, some children and at least a group of five dwarves; they came with ponies and horses, carriages and wheel carts, many of them came in with tired faces and some of them did not even smile but went directly to their usual spot in the town. Soon Thranduil realized some of the newcomers were looking at him strangely, some would open their eyes in fear and recognition while others would shot curious if highly interested stares. The elf straightened up ignoring these curious glances while missing the constant company of Thorin by his side.

“Father!”

Tom opened his eyes, his face broke into one content smile as a young man approached him, the young man’s stare drifted to the elf for a moment before he centred his attention on his father.

“Vidar how was the trip?” Tom embraced his son before putting him to a safe distance, the young man nodded curtly.

“It was…eventful,” here Vidar turned to Thranduil, “but I guess you already hear the news?”

Tom turned to Thranduil then to his son, “we did.”

“Do you know if these people hear something about Erebor or Mirkwood?” Thranduil finally intervened, Vidar nodded gravelly.

“Yes, but…” here Vidar shrugged, “we don’t know all the facts, Jon told old Nikola Túnsberg was housing an elf and a dwarf, so Nikola would helped his people get around and organized before calling on you.”

Thranduil wanted to ask something else, to try and find out more but he realized it would be futile. As Vidar had said, they did not know all the facts and it would be better to wait for Thorin so the both of them would receive the news together. This thought only saddened Thranduil, his heart shrank painfully as he realized he missed Thorin more than he cared to admit. He missed him more than he should. 

Tom had been talking with Vidar and his other son, Selby, who were telling them about bad weather and useless roads. 

"Well, what about the breakfast?" Tom asked grinning while placing his hands on his sons. "Let's go and I bet we can tell you our own adventures so far, right Master Thranduil?" 

Thranduil jerked away from his darkening thoughts, he offered a nod before they went back to Tom's place.

As soon as they entered the blacksmith’s workshop, Thranduil felt his blood run cold at the sight of Thorin and Rose comfortably sat beside the forge, it seemed they had been in this place all along. Thorin was flustered and without a shirt while Rose seemed rather shy with a blush adorning her cheeks; both of them straightened up rather embarrassingly as soon as Tom and the other’s entered the blacksmith’s home.

“Master Thorin!” Tom exclaimed shaking his head, Vidar entered the room raising his eyebrows while Jorund merely scowled.

Thorin turned startled, his eyes going wide open while Rose seemed rather flustered though she never lost her smile not did she moved from where she was sitting.

“The caravan is here, and they brought news.”

Thorin stood up as soon as he heard this, “are you sure? What news did they bring? Where are they?”

Thorin made his way to Thranduil finally locking his eyes with his; the elf felt the fluttering of his heart while his stomach dropped at the lack of warm coming from those blue eyes. Thranduil turned away stepping back and going to his spot on the workshop.

“They will speak with you, and I bet the whole town as soon as they finished setting up camp, Master Thorin,” Tom replied, “I just wanted you to know to be ready and not disappeared after lunch.”

Here Tom wiggled his eyebrows and laughed while making his way to the second floor with Vidar and Selby close behind. Jorund shot one last glare to Thorin before he went to Thranduil who was busying himself with some odd work.

“Master Thranduil, is there anything I can do for you?” Jorund sat down in front of the elf who lifted up his face rather surprised, the young man flustered lightly offering a timid smile, “I mean…well, mother told me to not let you out of my sight and I was wondering if there is something you may need.”

Thranduil returned the smile with one of his own, he was conscious of the heavy stare of the dwarf on him but he swallowed down ignoring Thorin completely.

“No, but thank you, if you have your duties set up for the day you can go ahead, I will be alright.”

Jorund pursed his lips doubtful, one part of him wanted to stay with the elf. Not only had his mother asked this of him, Jorund really like the company of Thranduil; but on the other hand, the caravan was there and he needed to go back to the tailor’s home to continue with his work.

“You know where to find me if you need anything, right?”

Thranduil chuckled bowing his head to the young man, “I know, and I promise you I will seek you out if there is anything I need.”

Just as Jorund was about to reply Selby appeared on the stairs, “Jorund, Master Thranduil, are you coming, father really is getting everything set up for a big breakfast. Master Thorin, Rose, if you want to join us…”

“Thank you, but I already eat and I was thinking on working some around here…” Thorin said glancing at Thranduil who seemed rather upset.

“I almost forgot about the breakfast,” Jorund said touching his stomach, Thranduil chuckled placing a single hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Come, Master Tom usually is rather enthusiastic about his cooking."

“Oh, so, you already know about his culinary abilities,” said Selby chuckling going ahead of them.

Thranduil stopped at the bottom of the stairs, he turned around and soon found himself looking directly into Thorin’s eyes. Thorin stood there for what seemed an eternity, his eyes completely focused on Thranduil who seemed hesitant for a moment. The sound of the town filled the workshop, the voices of Tom and his sons reached them to fill in the void left by their lack of communication; Thorin knew Rose was sitting right beside the forge looking over at him. He frowned hating this sudden shift of his heart, the longing in his soul to go approach the elf and erase the conflicting emotions going through the fair features.

But, he couldn’t.

With a heavy heart, Thorin turned around and joined Rose once again resuming the conversation they were having before the interruption. Thorin never turned back, but Rose did and what she saw made her sad for Thranduil was looking over at them, at Thorin, with a broken heart.

* * *

Lunch time came and went, the town was a hive of activity as the men and women arranged everything inside the Meeting Hall and many inhabitants of Túnsberg either helped or snooped around to catch some news.

Thorin sat on a worktable fixing some things while hearing Rose talking beside him, he had tried to distract himself all morning without any success, his ears would usually caught the conversation happening at the other side of the blacksmith's home where Thranduil sat surrounded by three enthusiastic young men who where trying to get the elf's attention. Something inside Thorin stirred in annoyance and then he just felt guilty. He really was mess at the moment.

The last couple of days had been vexing for him; he remembered when his father grabbed him one day and told him everything there is to know about intercourse and courting, he explained to him how it worked for dwarves, they could go around and be _adventurous_ enjoyed as youth was only one. Nevertheless, there would be a time in which Thorin would find that person, that _One_ that would push this urges away. Thorin had not understand this, and later on when he first started partaking in these _adventurous_ endeavours Thorin though his father a fool. How could you leave these urges and this much pleasure aside for only one person?

Ridiculous.

Thorin lowered his gaze knowing his emotions were in a rampage precisely because in the last couple of days he had found someone who he longed to make happy. He realized just how much his whole being would _softened_ at the sight of King Thranduil smiling or talking; how he would seem unsure of himself for a moment before his self confidence would show itself to hide away his own doubts. Thorin had come to know the Elven-King in a different light, he had seen just how skilled he really was, how smart, how shy; it drove Thorin mad whenever they spent time alone or share conversation. Then, a dark cloud would show above their heads whenever Thranduil tried to recall his past, his people, his son and Thorin was reminded of who the elf sitting in front of him really was. Thranduil was an Elf King, he was a warrior who probably had faced a thousand foes and fought alongside many allies, how many centuries had Thranduil reign above his people? How many Dwarven-Kings he had seen come and go until he was faced with Thrór and his heirs?

Thorin had seen the lost look on those silver eyes as they tried to recall his name and who he was. He had seen as Thranduil tried to recall something, anything, about himself and his past but it always came back with a blank stare that would soon transformed in despair. Thorin had been there when Thranduil faltered in his stance, or his words, how he had tried to get a hold of himself only to be half of the Elven-King Thorin had met back in Erebor.

And yet, Thorin had started to warm up to him. More than he should.

There was something so unique to the elf, the way he would adventured around the land, his easiness to hunt and grab food or climb up hills or merely the swift motions of his fighting technique. How easily he had teased or talked with Thorin, how interested he seemed in Thorin’s family and how he had tried to not be so disappointed when Thorin could not offer more answers about the elf or his home or his family. It was like this that Thorin knew. He knew this couldn't continue, he needed to distance himself from the elf, to assure himself that this was nothing more than a growing friendship and not attraction, that he could still flirt and go around without feeling guilty. Thorin knew his growing attraction was not only his, Thranduil was like an open book to him, he had seen the tenderness in those silver eyes. He had seen the affection...and Thorin ran before it was too late.

Thranduil did not know what he was getting into whereas Thorin was well aware of this. Of the two of them, Thorin needed to be the responsible one, Thorin needed to be the honourable one.

Thorin turned sharply to the sound of elven laughter coming from the table, Thranduil was shooting amused stares to Vidar who was making some strange movements with hiss hands while Selby looked mortified and Jorund held back his own laughter. Whatever tension Thranduil had carried with himself the moment he sat with the three young men was no gone, and Thorin could not help but think just how handsome he looked like this smiling, relaxing...his eyes never leaving the for of Vidar.

For some reason, Thorin was extremely upset by sudden attention and the constant touching Thranduil was receiving.

“Do you want to go over there?” Rose asked highly amused leaning back against her chair, Thorin straightened up glaring at her before grabbing his shirt.

“No, I think I need fresh air.”

*****

The snow had been falling slowly but surely on the land, the coldness of the day sneaking inside his clothes making him missed the warm coming from the forge.

Thorin had approached the newcomers but stayed at a safe distance, he was conscious of the stares many of them were wending his way or the hush whispers following him around. The Dwarven-Prince let out a sigh watching his breath under the cold afternoon, his mind and heart had been a mixture of anxiety and emotions he had never experienced before and his attempts to get a hold of them had made him more miserable than anything.

The clouds above his head were carried away by the wind, the snowflakes were falling slowly around the already muddy ground. Thorin stood in this spot of the town for what seemed an eternity, his arms crossed and his blue eyes glaring at some spot way beyond the outskirts of Túnsberg.

The blue eyes of the dwarf danced around the land, his sight falling upon the form of the old man Nikola. These people brought news of the outside world, for what he had heard from Tom’s sons something had happened and the caravan had been delayed by these new events on the outside world. Thorin focused his energy on this, the thought of Tom’s sons brought the unwanted image of Thranduil smiling bashfully at the young men who were praising the work of his hands. He shifted slightly when a soft hand placed itself on his shoulder, his face lifted up to see Rose standing beside him.

“You are looking restless, Master Thorin.” The young woman declared watching from Thorin to the caravan.

“I just wished they finished this and we can finally get to talk to them,” Thorin replied furrowing his brow, Rose stood right beside him the way she had done so in the last couple of days with a smile and an easy going attitude.

When he had met her, Thorin thought this could be his chance to bury away whatever it was he was experiencing from the elf. It was also a chance for him to get away and perhaps give Thranduil and himself a time apart. It had been a mistake. Thorin missed the blasted elf dearly, and Rose while a great company was not Thranduil.

“You’re leaving, are you not?”

Thorin turned to the young woman who was also looking at the caravan with some longing in her eyes.

“We are,” Thorin replied firmly, surely as his mind brought back the memory of Thranduil, “it depends on what we heard from these people but we cannot stay here. We need to move.”

“Are you sure you have to go?” Rose finally asked her hand moving further down the arm of the dwarf when locking her eyes to his, “I mean, you can stay.”

Thorin shook his head warming up just a little while turning his attention to the working men and dwarves. He felt horrible, as if he had been using Rose only to get away from whatever it was going on between Thranduil and himself.

“I know but I have a duty with Thranduil and myself,” Thorin replied shaking his head while facing Rose with an apologetic stare, “I cannot stay, I’m sorry if I…”

“Lead me on?” Rose replied arching a brow before her lips curled up.

Thorin straightened up clearing his throat, “Lady Rose, I am so…”

“Please, Master Thorin, I am not a damsel in danger not I am a naïve young girl,” Rose declared rolling her eyes, “You are quite handsome and…well, I do have a thing for hairy and strong men, but you won’t break my heart if you are honest.”

“What?” Thorin could not help his confusion when Rose shrugged smiling still.

“I am aware of our differences, and I am also well aware of your affections,” Rose explained. “I entered this small game because I wanted to, I was curious but I didn’t have high hopes for anything else.”

Thorin blinked a couple of times, his heart beating with relief at the words of the young woman. He narrowed his eyes at her and, while he could see there was sadness, he could also tell she was being honest.

“Either way, let me apologize for I should have not let my own curiosity to govern my actions,” Thorin replied bowing his head, “you are a wonderful woman, Lady Rose, and I am sure whoever gets the honour to claim your heart it would be a worthy man.”

Rose smiled shyly turning around, “Thank you.”

The sound of muffled conversation filled their silence, Rose turned her eyes to the men and women working around then she turned to Thorin. The dwarf was glancing back to the road leading to the blacksmith’s home and Rose smiled knowingly.

“I have always wanted to go out there into the world, have adventures, and meet different people.” She started saying with longing on her voice, “I entertained the idea of going with the caravan but…they moved around in circles through these areas, I wish I could go further down the road to the west or the south.”

Thorin observed her for a moment suddenly understanding the longing in the young woman, her eagerness to just do something different. Rose offered a half smile while her eyes lowered lightly.

“But, damsel in distress or not, I am still a woman. If I were to travel alone the road could be dangerous.”

“You’re a smart woman, I am sure you could find a way to continue down the road you wish for yourself,” Thorin replied shooting her a sympathetic glance, he partially understood what Rose meant. He too felt trapped in the never ending circle of his duties as a Prince and these shifting emotions for the elf.

“And one with a great drive, you can get whatever you want.”

Rose smiled sadly shaking her head, “some things are not that easy, Master Thorin. You should know this better than anyone.”

Thorin crossed his arms looking away from the knowing stare of the young woman, “Whatever you mean by that.”

Rose pursed her lips before speaking, “I have enjoyed your attentions greatly, Master Thorin. I have to say I was pleasantly surprised to discover dwarves are great kissers.”

Here Rose let out a giggle rolling her eyes when Thorin puffed out his chest proudly, his lips curling up at those words.

“I can also see that I was a mere distraction, your real affections are focused on another individual.”

“You are an attractive woman, Lady Rose…” Thorin started lowering his eyes while his whole face changed in a second.

“Please, I do not doubt this,” Rose said moving closer to the dwarf, “But, I do have to admit I cannot compete with the beauty of an elf, much less someone like Master Thranduil.”

Thorin was about to protests when he realized Rose was looking at something down the road, he followed her stare and soon he noticed Thranduil down in the distance.

Even if his memories were not there, the body of the Elven-King retained the right posture and the imposing nature of the King. Thranduil stood with the three young men talking animatedly beside him, his face was a mask of pure blankness though his lips were curled up and those silver eyes were shining brightly. His bearing was imposing without any effort, he towered above the rest of the men and women, only softening his features when Jorund or Vidar spoke to him; the elf was glancing around without missing any detail his arms were on his back and without the circlet on his forehead his golden hair fell freely around his white cheekbones.

He was still looking like a King strolling around his city greeting his subjects. Even in his own discomfort, Thranduil could not deny who he was and what he had been born for.

As his contemplation of the elf became far too evident Thorin soon found himself locking eyes with Thranduil, while he might not have elven sight for Thorin was not mystery what he read in those silver eyes. The loneliness, the confusion…the longing. Then, the stare was broken when Thorin felt a hand sneaking around his arms and shoulder making him turn around to face the young woman that was smiling at him knowingly.

Thorin leaned in to kiss the hand before running away from those silver eyes.

Rose shook her head pursing her lips until they finally stop at the outskirts of the city, Thorin tried to engage her in another game of flirtation but she merely stood back shaking her head again. This time around Thorin realized he had done something stupid and unnecessary.

“Why did you do that?” Rose asked coldly, Thorin winced shaking his head.

“You wouldn't understand.” Thorin replied uncomfortable under the glare of Rose.

“Master Thorin, I do not harbour any feelings for you, I've been having a great time with you and your attentions; however, Master Thranduil does not deserve this.” She said facing Thorin with crossed arms and heat in her eyes, Thorin winced looking away. "You may run from those stares, but I have seen how much it hurts him when you..."

“Why do you insist of speaking of this?” Thorin crossed his arms facing the woman with defiance, “I thought we were having fun.”

“We are, Master Thorin, but I am not as cruel as to break someone’s heart or be part of a different kind of game,” Rose then approached Thorin with a contemplative gaze. “Why are you running from Master Thranduil?”

Thorin sighed shaking his head; he rolled his eyes at his childishness but more so at the fact this young woman really seemed too mature and to wise to be a member of the race of men. He scratched the back of his head with his blue eyes gleaming lightly.

The Dwarven-Prince remained silent for a long time thinking over what had happened in the last couple of days, he was thinking about his own feelings and what he had been thinking and experiencing in the last weeks. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night with his hand tightly wrapped around the elf’s one and thinking just how their hands fit, how it was not strange for them to have been sharing the bed knowing there was another empty room in the house.

Thorin kicked a stone while he remembered those silver eyes looking intently at him in the midst of a song, how his heart skipped a beat when Thranduil smiled at him.

“I should not encourage whatever it is between us.” Thorin said with determination in his voice, “He and I…We are from different worlds, and fate put us on the same place at the same time by mere chance. I can't…”

Rose quirked a brow watching with some confusion as Thorin moved around, his footsteps going deep in the snow his hands and arms gesturing as he explained to her, to himself, why whatever had been growing in his heart was not possible.

“There is something else, and if I were to pursue whatever it is I am… _feeling._ And I’m not saying I feel anything at all,” Here Thorin turned to her clarifying, “anyway, I could not do it because I will be taking advantage of the situation…of him.”

Thorin finished dropping his shoulders with his brows together in a sad gesture, Rose leaned in turning her head back then offering some comfort.

“If you don’t mind me saying this, I don’t think he would mind if you would take advantage of him.” Rose laughed when Thorin opened his eyes sputtering indignantly before shaking his head and his cheeks turned an interesting shade of red.

“My, Master Thorin, what a wicked mind you have.” Rose laughed some more when Thorin waved his arms around before shooting her a heated glare.

“That’s not…That…Lady Rose!”

The woman’s eyes twinkled in mischief, “Please, you know I am right, and I am pretty sure you feel the same.”

Thorin straightened up placing his hands behind his back while glaring at the woman, Rosa sighed dropping her shoulders.

“No, I can’t.” Thorin replied coldly while looking away. “Whatever I want it is of no consequence because whatever we feel is not possible. He is an elf, I am a dwarf.”

Whatever signs of laughter or teasing she had worn moments ago were now gone as she realized Thorin was talking rather serious about this. She saw for the first time the flickered of sadness there, and the sudden anger Thorin felt at the whole situation.

“There are more things I cannot tell you, but…He does not now and he certainly doesn’t understand what would it mean to get involve with me,” Thorin then shook his head and lifted his chin. “So, it is better if we never explore that possibility, I could never take advantage of this for my own gain.”

Rose sighed shaking her head, “Sounds too complicated.”

“It is.” Thorin grumbled glancing at the young woman with some wonderment. “You are taking this rather calmly.”

“Which part? You liking another male? An elf? Or, you going around kissing young unknown women?” Rose sighed offering a half smile, “I told you the first time, you intrigue me and I like you, I have been born in a place where not many things changed, If I get a chance to kiss a handsome Lord like yourself I am not about to waste it.”

Thorin bowed his head smiling back, “And the other part?”

She shrugged, “I am not verse in the manners of dwarves or elves, but…I guess, I can understand love.”

Here Thorin froze, because he might feel lust and attraction but love? No, love was by far too strong of a word to go around and proclaim it as easily as this. Rose then furrowed her brows fixing her hair while turning to the town.

“Why would you take advantage of him?”

Thorin shrugged not ready to reveal everything that was happening, “It is what it is. He is in no position to say no too many things and I cannot, by my honour, do anything that will damage his trust in me.”

Rose smiled softly at that, her eyes filling with tears she tried to hide away, “Are you sure that is what you want?”

“I wish there was another way,” Thorin replied shaking his head.

“Like you really being attracted to me and not to Master Thranduil?” Rose replied softly.

Thorin nodded sharply, "it would be easier I would ask you to come with me."

Here Thorin trailed off glancing at the distance and Rose realized the dwarf was thinking about Thranduil, about his situation. She could not help but sigh longingly, wishing someone out there was this much in love with her. From the deepest part of her heart, Rose wished for Thorin and Thranduil to find happiness, to really stop running in circles around one another. 

“But everything seemed more complicated than that, Lady Rose,” Thorin explained. “I cannot leave Thranduil nor can I allow whatever it is I am experiencing advance any further. I have to be level-headed for the both of us.”

“Even if it is pretty obvious he is not indifferent to you.” Thorin turned sharply to the young woman silencing her with a single stare.

“More so if he is not; he does not know or understand the whole situation but I do, and that’s enough for me to cut this from growing into something else.” Thorin replied rather forcefully, Rose tilted her head watching the faltering resolution on the dwarf.

She could not help but think they were making matters more complicated it than they ought to be; and perhaps that Thorin was already too late to prevent something else for happening. They talked some more before they decided to go back to Tom’s home, afternoon already falling around the land and the caravan getting ready for the night show.

* * *

The wind travel the land with soft twirls of snow and coldness, the temperature had dropped slowly but surely as the afternoon gave way to the night.

The people of Túnsberg were filling up the streets happy to finally get the chance to visit the different stands brought by the caravan. Many of them were getting ready for the night show on the marquee thus the streets were filled with townsfolk all of them covered with heavy furs excited by the oncoming show.

Inside the blacksmith’s workshop Thranduil had stayed alone after having declined the invitation from Jorund and Vidar. Both men had been highly disappointed but they promised Thranduil to bring to him some of the curiosities they could find on the stands. This had amused Thranduil greatly, though if he were to be honest with himself it had also made him content. So far, these were the only ones brave enough to approach the elf and not demand answers Thranduil didn’t know. They had merely spoken about themselves, about life and Thranduil’s ability to work with his hands. It had been refreshing and a great chance for Thranduil to distract himself and forget about Thorin, if only for a little while.

Thranduil had enjoyed the solitude of the workshop, he had gotten a plank of wood and some of the carving tools from Tom before setting up to work. Ever since they got to the town Thranduil had finally discovered something completely _his_. The elf enjoyed the work of his hands, the way he could work forms or fix things while merely letting himself go in the feeling; there were moments as he worked around the wood, in which he wondered if this had been a leisure activity of his back in the forest. Or if this was one of the reasons he had been in the mountain on that fateful day; but whenever he tried to think about it, his soul would flickered and whatever energy or happiness he was experiencing would diminished when found himself under the same white fog in his head.

He had been silent; not really wanting to dwell deeply on his lack of memories even if he knew it was something he could not forget. And now, with Thorin so far away from him, Thranduil could not help the loneliness in his heart, the emptiness on his soul. A part of Thranduil wanted to be angry at Thorin for discarding him so easily, for Thorin to just drop everything to go after a young lady that smiled prettily at him; but even as he allowed such thoughts he realised just how idiotic it sounded. Thorin owed him nothing. And for that matter, Thranduil owed Thorin nothing either; they were in this situation together mainly because of circumstances, nothing else.

Besides, who was Thranduil to be jealous of a young woman? Who was Thranduil to think Thorin may harbour any feelings for him? Did Thranduil even know or understand what he was feeling?

The elf clenched his jaw as his fingers moulded the figurine in his hands, his eyes gleaming dangerously as he reprimanded himself for such foolish emotions. Whatever it was, was nothing more than sympathy and the affection for someone who had saved his life; Thranduil was holding onto some sense of security Thorin offered mainly because he was the first face he saw after waking up in a world he did not understand.

“That looks amazing!” Thranduil gasped turning to see Thorin was standing behind him with Rose; the young woman had her eyes opened wide admiringly at the piece of wood Thranduil had been working on.

The elf stiffened under the stare of the dwarf and the admiringly glance of the young woman, he pursed his lips facing the work of his hands watching the forms of the mountain and the stars above the sky, two single figures resting in front of what seemed to be a campfire. Thorin softened slightly, his eyes went from the wood and the different forms that had been worked with care and ability. He recognized the image but when he went to inquire about it Thranduil was shifting uncomfortably

“Master Thranduil, that’s an amazing work, how did you do it?” Rose leaned in quite interested her eyes admiring the different forms, Thranduil pursed his lips scowling lightly before speaking.

“Master Tom told me about the work done on the gates back in the Town Hall,” Thranduil replied glancing at his work fondly, “I inquired if it was possible for me to try and he offered the tools.”

“You are really a master of the art; have you done this before?” Rose had tinge her question with some incredulity, Thranduil glanced at his work for a long time before nodding curtly.

“This is actually the first time I try it.” The elf did not dare to face Thorin but he soon found himself looking into the young woman.

Rose was smiling at him and the piece of wood impressed, there was no mock behind her expression or even in her words. Thranduil wished it was easy for him to hate the young woman, to dislike and perhaps merely ignored her existence; but something inside him stirred unpleasantly at those thoughts. It seemed it was not in his nature to be this vile, or petty; Thranduil dared to lift his eyes only to find himself facing the dwarf who was shooting him an intense stare.

“And, you carve the mountain…I thought you will carve your home, I bet you miss it.” Rose finally said without noticing the shadow that crossed those silver eyes.

“I much prefer the sight of the mountain,” Thranduil finally revealed when he realized his silence was prolonging for far too long. “I found it soothing, comforting.”

Rose arched a single eyebrow, her eyes moved from the elf to the dwarf who was now scowling deeply before turning to his own workshop. The young woman pressed her lips together; she didn’t miss the disappointment on the elf’s face when Thorin merely walked away. She tried to press her hand on the elf’s shoulder but decided against it, not really sure what she could say or what she could do.

“Well, let me tell you, that’s a wonderful work. You really should consider practising some more. Though, for me you're already a Master of this art.” Rose stated curiously; Thranduil tilted his head knitting his brows together. "Would you work in the forest allow you this leisure activity?"

“I work on the Royal Palace,” Thranduil replied eyeing the young woman perplexed. "My duties usually keep me from any free time."

“Oh, really? The Royal palace must be a sight!" Rose exclaimed rather impressed never noticing the hesitation from Thranduil.

Before Rose could say any anything else or Thranduil had to search for the right words to keep the conversation, Tom came in. The man seemed rather excited, his eyes went from Thranduil and then to Thorin nodding to himself.

“Good, I’m glad you two are here, I’ve spoken with Nikola and well, he has invited you to tea on his tent.” Tom caressed his chin, “I’ll say you better go now.”

Thorin had stand up rather quickly, his heart beating hard against his chest at these news. This time around he dared to glance at Thranduil who was now a mask of pure blankness; they had noticed the urgency on Tom’s face, without any further hesitation both of them went to follow the man to the afternoon cold and the tent of the man in charge of the caravan.

* * *

Thorin found himself inside a great tent just beside the house of Jon.

On the outside he could see the tent was made of furs and a strange material forming a black and grey tent. The outside had been decorated with torches and oil lamps, there was a horse and the door had been left opened; inside the tent was big enough to house at least fifteen people, but the decoration had been simple and it was meant to house a tired traveller. At the very end was a single cot with a night table and several blankets for the cold nights, at the very centre there was a circular table surrounded by five chairs and filled with a teapot and five mugs all of them ready to be used.

“So, old Jon was not lying.” Nikola was an old man way beyond his fifties, with grey hair and a face marked by time and circumstances. His eyes were dark, tired but intelligent; the man approached them with a half-smile examining the newcomers.

“My name is Nikola, at your service and that of your families.” The old man said bowing his head, “and I was told you my noble sires were waiting for me.”

Thorin furrowed his brows taking the hand Nikola was offering, the old man then turned to Thranduil and this time around his eyes opened slightly.

“I’m Thorin, at your service.”

“My name is Thranduil, from the Woodland Realm.” Thranduil grasped the cold hand in his never breaking the eye contact, those dark eyes gleamed strangely at him but the man merely pursed his lips.

Nikola then turned to offer the chairs around the table.

“Come, please, I guess you’re looking for news.” Nikola commented serving the tea and waiting as Thorin and Thranduil took their respective chairs.

“We are. It has been so long since we last heard anything about Erebor.” Thorin started talking measuring every word that left his mouth, his eyes following every movement of the old man who was nodding in understanding.

“So, you were there when the drake attacked?” Nikola asked sitting down while taking a long sip from his tea, his eyes went from Thorin to Thranduil then back to the dwarf.

“We were.” This time around it was Thranduil the one who answered, “we got separated from our families, fate wanted for us to end in a very unexpected place.”

“So it seems, you are at the edge of the world.” Nikola commented he glanced at the tea on his hand before turning to Thranduil. “You look familiar, if I’m honest."

“Familiar?” Thranduil inquired panic rising to his mind as the old man shot him another strange glance.

“What do you mean?” Thorin leaned forward rather protectively, his hand placing itself right in from of Thranduil while his eyes pinned the man to the spot. “This is the first time we have met with you or anyone from around these lands.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Nikola then tilted his head. “three weeks ago we met with the most strange sight, noble elves with noble dwarves a day away from the outskirts of Mirkwood.”

Thranduil glanced at Thorin then at Nikola, Thorin clenched his fist eyeing the man with certain wariness. Nikola could not blame them, if he were to be honest he too would be wary of whoever he encountered on the road or that claim to have news you wanted to hear. The man then centred his eyes on Thranduil, those silver eyes were different, but the features and the hair were certainly familiar.

“There was an elf, the leader of the elven company,” Nikola said taking a long sip from his tea. "We heard from them about the drake, about Erebor and Mirkwood.”

“Mirkwood?” Thranduil asked weakly and the man nodded gravelly, Thorin glanced at Thranduil his face paling at what these could mean.

“The dragon was unmerciful, my lords. For what we heard, he destroyed not only Erebor but the Woodland Realm." Nikola lowered his glance as the shadow of fear crossed his face. "Everything was on fire from the Forest River to some place called The Fortress."

Without knowing when or how, Thorin found himself grabbing Thranduil's hand in his. The Dwarven-prince turned his attention to Thranduil who had his eyes fixed on Nikola; Thorin squeezed the elven hand comfortingly but Thranduil could do nothing more than stayed there. Frozen by the news.

“They had escape only by a miracle of the gods,” Nikola continued just as he turned to his guests, he could see this news were not what they were expecting.

“The dwarves of Erebor? What happened to them?” Thorin leaned forward hitting the table.

“They were the last ones to leave the mountain, apparently.” Nikola shook his head, “few survivors, some of the elves perish in the attack, more dwarves died trying to run through the forest.”

Thorin sat back trembling in anger and hopelessness, his people…those poor souls that had run to the forest...Thorin was dizzy. His hand tightened around that of Thranduil who squeezed back, the dwarf turned around to see Thranduil was glancing but, those silver eyes gleaming helplessly.

“The elf I spoke with, he looked like you.” Nikola said nodding towards Thranduil breaking the silent interaction between elf and dwarf. “And, if that’s the case then…you must be the father or his older brother.”

“Legolas…” the name escaped Thorin’s lips as the man nodded; Thranduil looked away trying to place a face to the name.

“He told me…his father was lost in the fight, he and Prince Frerin had made sure most of the people from Erebor and Mirkwood found safe passage before Smaug came.”

“Frerin? Prince Frerin?” Thorin leaned forward, his heart hammering against his chest, “he is alive then?”

“Yeah, though for what I heard, the heir, the old one died as well, trying to protect the mountain.” Nikola narrowed his eyes as Thorin leaned back placing a hand on his forehead.

“Is there anything else you wish to share? Any other news they share with you?” Thranduil inquired looking over at the man.

“They were trying to make their way to the west.” Nikola shrugged shaking his head, “our meeting with them was by mere chance, they were looking for food and news about the road, but we are simple folk never moving beyond the outskirts of Mirkwood or approaching the Forest River, bad things lurk in those lands.”

A heavy silence settle above them, Thorin holding onto the knowledge that at least his younger brother had survived and some of his people had done so as well. To the west, where were they going? Thorin furrowed his brows as he tried to invoke the map of Middle Earth, he tried to remember what was on the West.

“Lindon.” Thranduil whispered furrowing his brows at the name, his silver eyes gleaming with longing for a moment then as soon as this came it went.

Thorin opened his eyes, “Ered Luin! They’re going to the Blue Mountains!”

Nikola observed the elf and the dwarf for a long time, then he made a sound with his tongue taking another sip from his tea. Thorin turned his attention to the man, Nikola narrowed his eyes at him before speaking.

“I take it you are Prince Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.” Nikola finally said and Thorin nodded curtly. “Your brother did mention your name, he thinks you dead.”

“I should be dead.” Thorin replied before glancing at the elf, “King Thranduil saved me.”

“So, you’re the father.” Nikola scratched his chin shaking his head. “Dark times had befallen these lands if the last drake had dared to come forth.”

“Did he…” Thranduil trailed off and Nikola turned curiously at him, Thranduil lowered his eyes then lifted them again, his voice changing to something deeper, firmer and demanding. “Was Legolas alright? Was he hurt?”

Nikola softened shaking his head, “Nay, he was good, but sad. They were making sure to follow their people down the road, but were escorting the area to make sure no more surprises would follow them.”

Thranduil nodded ignoring all the attempts from Thorin to get his attention, “Thank you.”

“My Lords, it is good to see neither of you died in this fateful day,” Nikola then leaned forward. “I heard from old Jon you have been doing odd jobs to get some money and supplies to continue with your journey.”

“We have, yes.” Thorin mumbled bothered by the sudden coldness coming from the elf, “they had been kind enough to help us out but now that you have told us this, I think it is time for us to leave.”

“Now? Winter is still here, and the roads had been dangerous as of late.” Nikola observed as Thranduil started drinking his tea, “we were attacked by a group of orcs that wanted to get lucky, no more than four, probably thought we were mere fools. We got lucky, and good warriors amongst us, but the roads are impossible and I swear to you we heard wargs around the lands.”

“I understand that but, if my family, our family thinks we’re dead then…” Thorin shrugged, “we really have no choice but to continue.”

Nikola nodded shrugging, “I guess you are right. Well, Prince Thorin…”

“Please, just Thorin, no one here knows about my title or that of Thranduil.”

“And we prefer for it to stay that way.” Thranduil finished glancing at the man.

Nikola opened his eyes but conceded, “As you wish.”

“Thank you for these meeting and for the news you brought to us.” Thranduil stated tilting his head while glancing at the man, “In a way you have given us something to go on. Our people needs us and we cannot wait longer in here.”

Thorin nodded curtly, “I guess we shall part as soon as we can.”

“Well, my Lords, if you allow me a piece of advice,” Nikola stood up and went to his night table, he search inside the table until he put out a piece of parchment, Nikola placed it on the table and Thranduil and Thorin realized it was a map.

“We usually take this road marked with red,” Nikola started talking signalling a road that went near the north borders of Mirkwood, then his finger moved to a green road that went right under the shadow of the grey mountains. “But, this road is usually faster and will take you to an old Dwarven stronghold.”

“Gundabad.” Thorin mumbled furrowing his brows, Nikola nodded though his face never lost the concern.

“There is a section in which you will be able to cross the Misty Mountains without actually having to cross them.” Nikola shrugged, “After that you will be on the West Lands.”

Thorin glanced at the map just as his face fell at the thought of his people out there in the wild, in the middle of winter. What had happened to his father? To his grandfather? To Dís? Thorin relaxed under the hand of the elf, Thranduil squeezed Thorin’s shoulder and the dwarf turned to the elf with his eyes warming up a little. Whatever tension had grown between them, whatever doubts or conflict it was forgotten under the light of these news. Thorin placed his hand on top of Thranduil’s one squeezing lightly before turning to Nikola.

“You don’t have a spare map by any chance, do you?” Thorin inquired hopefully, Nikola snorted shaking his head.

“No, but you can get this one,” Nikola offered. “We know these roads better than most, so really I won’t be needing it.”

“Lord Nikola,” Thranduil started and the old man snorted, “thank you for these news, and for the map. Your words had bring to us peace and worry, but now at least we know our family lives. At least some of them.”

“My Lords, I hope I have brought better news and that I could offer more but we are simple people.”

“You have offered us more than we hope for, this won’t be forgotten, Lord Nikola.” Thorin replied bowing his head.

* * *

Night had already fallen by the time they left the tent..

Dark and cold, Thorin and Thranduil did not feel incline to partake in the celebrations occupying the main road in Túnsberg. Without a single word, they took a side road and leave the town under the cover of the night, their footsteps were the only ones breaking the silence as the step on the snow on the road. In the distance, Thranduil could see the cottage, Sophie had left the fireplace on before going to town with Ronnie so the house was warm enough by the time they got there. The elf looked our of the corner of his eyes to see Thorin was right beside him completely tense and lost. Just like he was feeling.

The walked in silence, each one of them deep in thought.

Thorin was finding it hard to breath or organize his thoughts; the old anguish he felt as soon as he woke up in the caverns of Erebor was back. His mind worrying about his people, his family, his friends; how many of them had died, how many of them disappeared in the flames of the mountain, of the forest. Frerin had survived but, at what price? Was he doing alright? Why was he with prince Legolas? What about Dís? What about the King and his son?

So many questions, so little answers.

“You’re thinking too much,” Thorin blinked a couple of times until he realized they had gotten to the cottage and Thranduil was standing in front of him.

Thorin shot him an incredulous stare, “Am I thinking too much? They are out there! They think I’m dead!”

Thranduil softened under the distressed sight of Thorin, he hesitated for a moment until he placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“But you’re not, and we will go to them.” Thranduil said softly, trying to reassure the male in front of him.

“Your son…” Thorin started speaking but Thranduil gave him a self-deprecating smile.

“I don’t remember Thorin, I’m glad Legolas is doing alright but I…” Thranduil trailed off looking away.

For a moment Thorin realized just how selfish he had been, how idiotic he had behaved in the last couple of days. How he could forget Thranduil had not recollection of his life, of his people, of his family; he was lost in a world he barely comprehended, with someone who he had come to trust and rely on only for Thorin to give his back at him. Because he was a coward. Because Thorin was weak; the dwarf lifted his face and saw all the hurt in those elven features, he realized Thranduil was just as lost as he felt.

“I apologize, King Thranduil…”

“Don’t.” Thranduil cut him off stepping back. “Don’t apologize with me out of duty, Thorin. Just…don’t.”

Thranduil then turned around and entered the cottage, Thorin glanced at the sky wondering just when did this situation turned out to be so complicated. The snowflakes kept on falling down slowly but surely, the dwarf’s soul tremble under the darkness he was now surrounded by. His eyes flickered to the light coming from the cottage and then, with a heavy heart he went inside.

He found Thranduil sitting down in front of the fire, his eyes flickering away following the patterns of the flames. There was no one home; Thormod and Sophie were in town along with Ronnie and Jorund. Once again they were alone.

"I was not apologizing out of duty," Thorin all but whispered, he decided to glance at the fire as he spoke to the elf. "I know I have not been the best of companions as of late I've been having some issues that I need to sort out."

Thranduil dropped his shoulders furrowing his brows at these words, he wanted to ask what issues but dare not to. He was afraid of the answer, and he was afraid to reveal more than he should.

"We are in this together, Thranduil. This is not duty, this is just you and me." Thorin said simply shrugging, "and I should be more attentive to your troubles."

"I'm not a child, Thorin." Thranduil started and this time around Thorin did turn to him with something strange gleaming in his blue eyes.

"I know that!" Thorin then leaned in grabbing the hand of the elf in his. "But I also know what I have seen in your eyes, Thranduil."

Thranduil opened his eyes lightly, his whole body tensed and his heart leap eagerly as he found himself trapped by those blue orbs. Could it be Thorin had noticed? The heart of the elf speed up a little bit as he suddenly noticed just how close they were, how warm was the hand of the dwarf around his.

"I know you feel lost, and at times you force yourself to try and remember." Thorin looked away so as to not face the glint of disappointment in the elf's stare. "You are strong, a warrior and need not me or anyone else and yet, I have been denying you of my company because I was following selfish needs. Today I was reminded of what happened, of what we lost; and I realize I missed my friend."

The moment was broken after Thorin finished his speech, the elf sat back letting go of the hand holding his. Thorin made not attempt to keep his hold and he merely turned around to face the fire. Thranduil wanted to scream, to run away from whatever it was he was experiencing; he was not familiar with the overwhelming emotions threatening to break his soul as much as they had already broken his heart. He clenched his fists just as he shot an icy stare to the fire.

"I have missed you too." Thranduil all but whisper but Thorin could not help the wince on his face at the broken tone on the elf's voice.

The fire flickered around, the sound of the wind outside seemed to increase just as the silence in the cottage seemed unbearable. After a while, Thorin took a deep breath and start singing, he tried to break the silence and the tension around them but....without realizing it, all he did was break Thranduil's heart a little more. A little deeper.

Thorin softened his features, his heart fluttering at the sight of Thranduil watching the fire while his eyes gleamed with emotions. He had said nothing, but Thorin didn’t need for the elf to speak for he could read it in his face.

Thorin thought, tried to convince himself, Thranduil was trying to find it in himself to _feel_ correctly about the situation, the elf had tried to place a face to the name of Legolas and had imagined just what he should feel at finding out the Woodland realm had been destroyed. His home. Thorin had seen the tension of his body, the quickening of his breathing, the breaking of his cold façade; then the tears rolling down those cheeks while those silver eyes darkened.

They did not speak, and Thorin did not understand and Thranduil was just too tired to explain.

Thorin’s heart broke at the sight and, against his best judgement, he had wrapped his arms around Thranduil and let the elf rested against his body. By the time Thormod and his family got there, he and Thranduil were already on Thorin’s room with Thranduil holding onto Thorin as if he was the only real thing in his life.


	8. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!  
> Thank you so much for stopping by, now do remember that English is not my mother tongue so forgive any grammar, spelling or funny mistake.  
> Happy reading!

**Chapter 8**

**The Fall**

Thranduil stood facing himself on the small mirror hanging from the room.

The first time he had dared to look into it there was a glimmer of hope in his mind that, perhaps once he saw his face something in his mind would snap presenting him with what he had lost. What he discovered instead, was a noble face with white soft skin, deep, silver eyes and thick eyebrows and an ageless youth betrayed only by the ancient void in his eyes. What had impacted him the most was the colour of his hair, golden locks falling down his back like a cascade of sunshine rays, he knew this was not common amongst his people and he admired it as he placed the circlet around his forehead and the tip of his ears sneaked out of his golden hair.

Now, looking back at his reflection for the third time, Thranduil knew the elf looking back at him was completely different to the one that had looked at him that very first day. This time around Thranduil could recognize himself, he could see the light of the Eldar surrounding his frame; his eyes sharp and calculating would, from time to time, soften as his mind brought to memory the people he had met in the last couple of weeks. The memories he had been building up mixed up with the desperation hanging from his mind and soul, the mixture would be almost unbearable if it wasn’t for the glimpse of hope he had come to associate with Thorin.

The elf shifted his face never changing though his eyes did lose the glimmer of contentment it held a moment ago. Thranduil knew, deep inside his mind and heart, he should not feel relief with the Dwarven-Prince and yet he could not help but seek it out; he could still feel the warm of Thorin’s body and the sweetness of his voice, the promise on his lips that everything would be alright.

_“Everyone is alright, and you will see them again and then we will figure out how to help you with your memories.”_

Their relationship changed again after that night, Thranduil was not sure he knew how but he could sense it. There was still reluctance from Thorin, he still ignored him in favour of the human woman and yet…he could find those blue eyes seeking out to his, that easy smile upon bearded lips and that voice talking to him at nights. They had planned together, Thorin had asked for his opinion while showing him a map of a land Thranduil barely remembered; these kinds of gestures only reveal to Thranduil a side of the Dwarven-Prince he had come to treasure.

Why did it have to be so complicated?

Thranduil offered himself a last glance; his hands went directly to the circlet on his forehead fixing it until it fit perfectly with his bearing. He turned around and soon his eyes fell upon the form of the elven blade, the heavy coat and the backpack they had gotten for the trip. For the very first time ever since they arrived to Túnsberg, Thranduil felt the heavy weight on his chest of the oncoming trip. In a matter of hours, they would leave the protection of this small town and face the outside world in search of their people and the survivors of Smaug’s attack. The Elven-King was uncertain of what would happen once they reached the dwarves of Erebor and the elves from Mirkwood; because, while Thorin was Prince and loved and missed by his people, his duties were not as heavy or as demanding as those Thranduil would have to assume once he reunited with his elves. He was not even sure if he should take upon the crown again, not like this.

“Oh, my!” Sophie let out a breathless exclamation, her eyes going wide as she checked the elf out with an appreciative stare.

“I’m standing right beside you, Sophie.” Her husband grumbled out crossing his arms and shooting the woman a mocking glare.

“I’m sorry, Thormod but…” here Sophie turned to Thranduil who was looking down at himself self-consciously of the clothes he was wearing, “Thranduil, you look lovely in those clothes.”

Thormod nodded glancing at Thranduil with an appreciative stare, his lips curling up as Thranduil tried to really get at ease in these clothes that did not feel completely _his._

“Jorund did a good job with these, he really has talent.” Thormod commented scratching his chin to which Thranduil had to agree wholeheartedly.

Jorund along with Ronnie had gotten out of the way to fix something for Thorin and Thranduil; Jorund worked at the Taylor’s workshop and in the last couple of weeks he had been working hard on the clothes Thranduil was wearing at the moment, as soon as they had announced their departure Jorund had showed up with two huge packages each one of them with a set of clothing fit for the weather and their height.

Thranduil had discovered a set of trousers more like the ones he had brought the first time they arrived to Túnsberg, they were dark and warm though light to the touch. The young man had also worked on a tunic and a linen undershirt with long sleeves, these were of a mixture of black and silver and fit Thranduil perfectly making it possible for him to do abrupt movements without restricting them. He was still using his light shoes and on the bed in his room was the traveling cloak.

“I do not know how to repay your kindness,” Thranduil finally said with a heavy voice and sincerity in his features. “You have done more for Thorin and me than anyone should. For that, we will be forever grateful and in your debt.”

“Oh, please,” Sophie shook her head approaching the elf, “I’m glad the gods brought you on time to save my boys, and that they allowed me to meet you and Lord Thorin.”

Thranduil bowed his head, “I will never forget this.”

“Now, come, breakfast is ready.” Sophie hurried the elf down the table, just as she was setting the food and Thormod was inquiring about their preferred route Thorin came from his room.

Much like Thranduil, the dwarf was wearing the same style of trousers he had worn when they first arrived. They were also black and fit the dwarf perfectly, with heavy boots and a linen undershirt and robe made of blue, black and silver. Their eyes met, Thorin glancing appreciatively at Thranduil while the elf merely offered a bashful smile; Thorin kept his eyes on the elf more than he should, as if realizing this, he shook his head turning his attention to Sophie who was now glancing at him with the same impressed stare she had sent to Thranduil, she was smiling appreciatively while Thormod rolled his eyes and Thranduil chuckled at the interaction.

“Jorund really is a great lad.” Thorin finally said sitting at the table, “All of you, I don’t know how much this costs…”

“Please, Mr Thorin, I did it with pleasure.” Jorund came from the second floor; his eyes went from Thorin then to Thranduil grinning widely as his eyes glance at the elf. “I’m glad I could just contribute, and this cost nothing.”

“Still, as soon as I can I will make sure you and the people of Túnsberg received a handsomely reward for the help,” Thorin said firmly placing his fist on the table, Thormod glanced at his wife then back at Thorin.

“Thank you, Lord Thorin.” The man said giving him and Thranduil a half smile, “we did not do this for any reward, you were in need and we were more than happy to help.”

“We know this.” Thranduil said. “Still, we do know how much it cost everyone.”

Thorin nodded curtly eating away the oatmeal and bread Sophie placed in front of him. Thranduil rolled his eyes before continuing speaking.

“We have already fixed everything with Master Tom, what little we earned has bought what we need.” Thranduil explained. “The rest will be given to you.”

Thormod opened his eyes just as much as Sophie and Jorund did. Thorin and Thranduil had been working for quite some time in the town, they had been a great help to the blacksmith who had been able to fix whatever the weather and the storm had damage. The elf and the dwarf had already bought what they need in between ropes, blankets, waterskin, food and other necessities there was nothing much they had spent of what they had earned with honest work.

“You…you really didn’t have to.” Sophie finally said but then bowed her head, “but thank you.”

Thorin said nothing else, but he knew Thranduil was thinking the same as he was. These people had offered them a home, shelter, food and friendship and, while they could not repay in kind at the moment, the Dwarven-Prince swore to do so as soon as it was possible for him. Thorin dared to glance at Thranduil who was now speaking with Jorund, the young man was asking questions about the road and the forest, and Thorin saw as the elf merely used whatever it was Thorin had told him to fill in the blanks. The dwarf smiled softly looking at Thranduil far longer than he should. Again. When Thorin realized this he turned away only to find Sophie shooting him a knowing smile as she busied herself with the morning chores.

* * *

It was a cloudy day.

The town was still buzzing with constant activity and only a few curious people went to the north side of the town to say good-bye to their most curious guests. Thranduil stood away from the main commotion, to his side was Jorund and Sophie both of them talking animatedly while wishing the elf a good trip. The elf did not want to get involved in the boisterous good-bye Thorin was receiving by some of the people he had gotten to know during their stay in the town; Thranduil observed with just a tad bit of bitterness as Rose came by calling to Thorin who did not hesitate to step aside with the young woman.

“I believe everything is ready,” Thormod said glancing up in the sky before rubbing his hands together. “Do take good care of one another and try to not get into too much trouble, Lord Thranduil.”

“I will try my best, though I cannot promise you Thorin would do so, dwarves are known to be stubborn and bring with them trouble.”

“And elves are known to be gits.” Thorin replied dryly glaring mockingly at the elf who shot him an amused stare.

Thorin then turned to Thormod stretching the man’s hand, “Thank you again. We will be careful on the road.”

“You have everything you need and if ever find it in your heart to come visit, you will always have a place to stay.” Thormod replied he soon smiled as Tom and his sons approached the group waving enthusiastically until Vidar and Selby stood right in front of Thranduil

“This is for you, Master Thranduil.” Vidar said presenting a rucksack to Thranduil who could not hide his surprised at this, Selby was smiling too but Thorin stirred uncomfortably narrowing his eyes to the two young men who had encircled Thranduil in a tight embrace.

“You should not stop practising the art of carving, Master Thranduil.” Vidar said smiling at the elf. “Although, you don’t need it, this may distract you when the road turns too dark or dull.”

“Thank you, for everything.” Thranduil placed his hand on his chest bowing his head lightly.

“None of that nonsense!” Tom wrapped his big arms around a startled elf who tensed completely when the man hugged him tightly. “Master Thranduil, it saddens me to see one of my best workers part, but I hope good fortune follows you around.”

“It has been my pleasure, Master Tom.” Thranduil replied firmly straightening himself up offering a half smile to the man, he was startled still by the sudden show of affection.

The Elven-King was about to turn when his eyes caught the sight of Rose who was smiling at him, the young woman approached him shyly locking her clear eyes to those of the elf.

“I was nice meeting you, Master Thranduil,” Rose said offering a sincere glance to Thranduil who merely nodded curtly.

“Likewise,” Thranduil could see Thorin was looking at them though his attention was soon claimed by Tom and his sons.

Rose placed a hand on top of the elf’s forearm, “You know? I wish I have known you better, Master Thranduil. Master Thorin spoke highly of you and I couldn’t help but wish we have gotten to know one another better.”

These words caught Thranduil’s attention; he turned to the young lady who was giving him a strange glance. He narrowed his eyes with a piercing pain on his chest area at the thought perhaps Rose was mocking him; he had seen the glances Thorin sent her way, or those silly conversations they held. He had even seen the kisses they shared, whatever made them speak or even mention Thranduil?

“I hardly think I was an interesting topic between the two of you,” Thranduil replied coldly.

“You were,” she said squeezing lightly the forearm of the elf. “He really mentioned you constantly.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Thranduil pierced the young woman with his stare, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as Rose stepped back a little.

“I don’t want you to leave this place with the wrong assumption about me,” Rose said shrugging, Thranduil merely quirked a brow. “Master Thorin, for all his flirty nature and foolish behaviour, is a dwarf loyal to his heart.”

Before Thranduil could ask anything else Thorin came in looking directly at him, “Are you ready?”

They said good-bye with heavy hearts, the world spreading right before them was dark and cloudy with snow and low temperatures awaiting them beyond the outskirts of the town.

* * *

The first day was uneventful.

Both travellers realized everything was different this time around. When they had come from Erebor the weather was dry and cold, with strong winds and long nights; there was no snow or rain, so they spent those first days relatively dry. After they had arrived to Túnsberg, they realized they had been lucky for soon after the snowstorm came into the land and it was almost impossible to go around in the wild.

Right now, they did not have the luxury of a cosy refugee or the protection of the mountain hills or even the forest. The land before their eyes was plain covered with a white cloak and uneven terrain, the air around them was dry and the low temperatures were completely different to what they had experienced before.

Still, while it was obvious Thorin hated this new development, Thranduil loved it.

Thorin stopped after the two hours hike; he was trying to get his foot out of the snow thanking Jorund in his mind for this gift. The boots were of a good material and, at least, they were protecting his feet and legs from the coldness of the snow. The Dwarven-Prince lifted his eyes only to see Thranduil was standing above the snowy land, it was not even that deep but it was obvious for Thorin it was not as easier as it was to the elf.

“I can carry you if you want.” Thranduil laughed dodging the snowball Thorin threw his way.

“He speaks!” Thorin declared rolling his eyes while approaching the elf standing where he was Thorin looked even smaller than the elf, the weight of their differences bringing a shadow to his expression. “If you’re going to broke the silence to mock me, then I prefer you silent and childish running around the land.”

Thranduil did not say anything but merely stared at Thorin before focusing his stare in the distance, he could see many things well beyond the line of the river though the mist forming around the mountains prevented him to see anything else. This was the first time they were alone since that night at Thormod’s place and conversation had been elusive as they advanced through the land; Thranduil had not done so on purpose, he really had distracted himself with the sight of the snow and the sky and everything around them. Whereas Thorin saw only snow and difficulties, Thranduil saw beauty and wilderness. It made him feel like home.

But now, watching over at Thorin he realized he had been too distracted to notice the sourly mood of his companion.

“I was not being childish,” Thranduil replied after a while glancing at himself standing just higher than usual than Thorin, for a brief moment he noticed their differences it wasn’t only about the height but their bearing whereas Thorin seemed tired Thranduil was just full of energy ready to continue.

“I really don’t want to rest until we have reached the river,” Thorin said tilting his head, “do you think we can make it?”

This time around Thorin turned to Thranduil crossing his arms while facing the elf as if the height didn’t matter. Thranduil was tempted to smile, but soon stopped himself when he noticed just how tensed Thorin seemed at the moment.

“I cannot see Túnsberg anymore,” Thranduil replied nodding curtly. “I think we have a great chance to get there if we stop this conversation and keep going.”

“You are overly enthusiastic today, King Thranduil.”

“And you are overly irritable today, Prince Thorin.”

The Dwarven-Prince straightened up shaking his head before resuming his hike, Thranduil observed as Thorin waded into the snow with determination and just a tad of stubbornness. The elf could not help the smile upon his lips when the dwarf turned to him rolling his eyes.

“Well? Don’t pretend you cannot run around at ease, and I hope you’re not doing it because of me, I don’t need you to be patronizing with me.” Thorin exclaimed rolling his eyes when, in no time Thranduil decided to just move farther away from the dwarf. “Elves.”

“Dwarves!”

Thranduil was amazed at the world spreading out before him; it was so much different to the land lying before Erebor or the wild lands leading to Túnsberg. His eyes could stare far beyond the limits of the river to the Grey Mountains, he caught side of the snow and the frozen land, of the small trees and the moss and heath; vegetation he never thought possible in the midst of winter. His eyes also caught sight of white hares and some other animals sneaking around the land. It was as if winter was just the birth of another kind of life, one you usually didn’t notice in the mist of summer or spring. He was quite entranced by all of this, his eyes moving around just as his mind welcomed the distraction. The clouds followed them all through the day, not a single sight of sun or any light different than that of the day; from time to time, Thranduil would turn his head back only to discover they were alone in the midst of such grandeur.

Thorin would sometimes look back at him, his blue eyes following with amusement or irritation as Thranduil reacted to what he was seeing. They did not speak, but Thranduil felt the heavy stare of the dwarf on him all through the day and Thorin was just happily looking at the elf without any interruption. He tried to keep at bay those traitorous thoughts telling him he should just take what was being offered in a silver plate; whenever those thoughts show up he would merely look away never noticing as Thranduil sighed at having lost the attention off the dwarf.

As the day advanced, the winds around them became unbearable. Thranduil could see as Thorin hugged himself lifting his face with some difficulty while trying to keep his pace without faltering behind. He was tempted to smile at the stubbornness of the dwarf but soon he found leaning forward to hold Thorin from a certain fall.

“Are you alright?” Thranduil mumbled glancing at the ground then at the dwarf who was now on his arms, Thorin snorted shaking his head.

“It was icy over there, the snow just covered it.” He explained lifting his blue eyes to Thranduil who was still holding him tightly against himself; Thorin could not help the smile drawing on his lips. “Is there something else you wanted or can I have my body back?”

Thranduil froze at those words; his eyes went from his arms wrapped tightly around Thorin then to the amused stare of the dwarf. Just as Thranduil had come fast to held him back, he let go of Thorin who not having counted with this did fall on the ground.

“Oi, what did you do that for?” Thorin sat up glaring at the now smiling Elven-King.

“I thought you told me to give your body back,” Thranduil shrugged innocently, “though, I don’t understand your comment I was merely preventing you from falling down on your face.”

“So, you could let me fall on my arse?” Thorin replied back, “besides, what I was trying to say is that you didn’t need to hug me so tightly to not let me fall.”

“Please, I was not even holding you that tight.” Thranduil rolled his eyes looking away with an unreadable expression on his face; Thorin snorted narrowing his eyes to the elf.

“Yes, you were.”

“Did it bother you too much?” Thranduil asked, “Would you have preferred Lady Rose to be the one doing such a feat?”

The words were out before Thranduil could stop them, Thorin clamped his mouth shut looking away and the tension they had forgone for more than a couple of days was back. The wind blew around them wildly just as the snow started falling slowly, Thranduil sighed watching his breath forming white clouds in front his face. His silver eyes went to the north then he turned to Thorin who was still sitting on the frozen ground; shaking his head Thranduil approached the dwarf offering his hand.

“Come, you shouldn’t be there or else you’re going to freeze.” Thranduil waited until the hand of the dwarf wrapped around his, their eyes met and Thorin could read in those eyes the uncertainty and the things left unsaid between them.

“Thank you.”

With some reluctance, Thorin let go of the elf’s hand fixing his clothes while looking away from the elf. The sky was starting to turn a dark shade of grey, the light diminishing as they stood there feeling the snowflakes caressing their faces. Without saying another word, they continued their walk down the road with heavy hearts and stormy minds.

*****

By the time they reached the River Tundra night had already fallen.

Since there was not trees, mountains or hills in these parts the wind was stronger than what they were used to. Thorin thanked Jorund for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, the clothes he had worked on were warm enough to help him faced such a weather, but still the cold would sneak around and made him shiver uncontrollably.

The River Tundra was a frozen portion of water surrounded by small rocks, mosses, sedges and lichens. The place was looking gloomy; all around them were shadows or silvery whirlpools of snow and wind, the land before them was plain with no signs of life or refugee. Thorin put the cloak tightly around his body; he lifted his eyes but could no longer see the far away shadow of the Grey Mountains.

“There is nothing much, but I dare not to continue for tonight.” Thranduil said beside him, he had to raise his voice to be heard above the howling wind.

Thorin nodded curtly looking around disheartened when he realized there was not a single place to protect them from the night. The elf placed a hand on his shoulder nodding to the far right, Thorin furrowed his brows but whatever Thranduil could see was only available to his eyes. A few minutes later they had found themselves scrunched up around a group of small rocks, some dwarf shrubs and a patch of moss growing near the river. At another time, at another season this place might look beautiful and even inspiring, but at the moment only shadows and dread could be felt.

“I guess, this is as good as it gets, right?” Thorin mumbled hugging himself tightly while trying to stop himself from shivering. Thranduil shot him a concern glance the dwarf ignored as he let go of the backpack while looking around.

“You’re trembling.” Thranduil pointed out the dwarf tried to wave away the concern from the elf but soon stopped when Thranduil glared at him.

“Please Thorin spared me your lame explanations and for once let me help.” It was the tone Thranduil used to address him what stop any protests from the dwarf.

Thorin clenched his mouth shut his eyes following with curiosity the form of the elf who seemed rather busy putting his old robe and two blankets from his backpack.

“Put this under you.” Thranduil said passing the robe to the dwarf who opened his eyes surprised.

“What? Why?” He stuttered glancing at the elvish robe, Thranduil rolled his eyes quirking a brow at the dwarf.

“You can’t sit on the cold, you can sit on top of this and then we will put the blankets on you,” Thranduil explained putting some of the contents from his backpack, “I will set the fire and then…”

“Then what?” Thorin asked already feeling warm, he shot a curious glance to the elf who suddenly stood up and left for a moment.

Thorin sat there for what seemed hours until he realized Thranduil was bringing a couple of rocks placing them with care in front of the dwarf. Thorin sat there bewildered just as the elf seemed to work around an improvised fireplace. It was more like a pit, something Thorin could never have thought about but that was actually a good idea. The rocks surrounding the fire protected it from the strong winds but did not prevent for the flames and the heat to reach them in the small place they were sharing.

“Really? How did you come up with that?” Thorin asked once Thranduil sat beside him. “This is brilliant!”

Thranduil lowered his face rather shyly though his smile was self-satisfied and his eyes were gleaming proudly.

“I’m not sure, it’s just…there.” Thranduil replied shrugging, then his eyes lost all brightness as he continued. “Sometimes, I realized some things are just _there_ inside my mind…but I don’t know where they came from or how I learnt them.”

They remained silent as the fire continued burning until, after an hour or so it was strong enough to warm them up.

Thorin glanced at the flames his body already warming up under the blankets and the small nest Thranduil had prepared for them both. Silence settled between them, Thorin glanced at the flames furrowing his brows knowing he needed to speak with the elf sitting beside him; he realized a few weeks ago it had been so easy, now…

“I missed these moments with you.” It was said in such a soft voice Thorin almost couldn’t hear it, he dared to glance at the elf who had his attention on the flames. “I did not know how much until we got to Túnsberg and you started ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Thorin said just as softly, he sighed shaking his head when Thranduil snorted glaring at the flames. The dwarf tightened his hold on the blankets shaking his head. “I really was not ignoring you. I think I got carried away by the sight of the town and…”

“Rose?” Thranduil finished when Thorin seemed unable to continue, Thorin stiffened but didn’t confirm or denied this.

Rose had not been the reason for the growing gap between them, of this Thorin was completely sure. The young woman had been an escaped; a chance to proof himself he was still capable of detaching himself from his growing emotions. He was supposed to be young, adventurous…settling down was for someone way past their fifties; Thorin had tried to proof this to himself so much, he didn’t realize how much it was hurting Thranduil. Thorin was so busy distracting himself, he was not even being fair with his own feelings and who he really was.

“No, I just…” Thorin stopped not really knowing how to explain to Thranduil why he had distanced himself from the elf without revealing too much.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Thorin.” Thranduil cut in when the silence stretched for far too long. “You owed me nothing; I think I now understand this. I guess…I was just relying on you too much, and I cannot allow it.”

“What?” This time around Thorin did face the elf with a frown adorning his features, Thranduil was now a mask of pure seriousness, and his eyes gleamed softly with a sad resolution.

“I was thinking, at some point we should think of partying ways.” Thranduil continued as if he had rehearsed this speech too long. “Perhaps, once we crossed the Misty Mountains.”

“What? Why? What are you telling me this now? I mean…” Thorin was seeking the answer behind those silver eyes and he realized at the moment was really hard to read the elf sitting beside him. “We start this journey together, Thranduil…”

At this those eyes finally gave in, they ignited with anger and the old wound Thorin had placed there by putting the distance between them.

“I think I can take care of myself, Prince Thorin.” Thranduil did not lift his voice, his eyes completely focused on Thorin. “I thank you for everything you have done for me, but I do not need protection nor do…”

“Do you think this is about protection?” Thorin sputtered out. “This is…it has nothing to do with that! Thranduil we cannot part ways until we found our people! Your people!”

“I’m well aware of my own limitations and my advantages, Thorin.” Thranduil replied just as forcefully as the dwarf. “I know I can get to my people without any help, once we have crossed the Misty Mountains…”

“Why do you want to separate from me?” The question left Thorin before he could stop it, the flames trembled under the wind both males forgetting all about the cold or the night.

Thranduil straightened up turning his face to the fire; he was not ready to admit to the dwarf what he was experiencing. He was not ready to tell him he could not take the coldness, or how easy it was for Thorin to dismiss him. Thranduil did not want to speak about what he had been feeling for quite some time nor did he want to keep beside Thorin if it meant heartbreak; they were so different on so many levels.

“I think it’s for the best,” Thranduil finally said thinking in his head this conversation had gone pretty differently.

Thorin opened his mouth to protests but then closed it again; this was what he wanted, right?

To get far away from Thranduil so whatever absurdity was growing in their hearts could stop before it became something impossible to handle.

* * *

It was like a game.

One moment everything seemed perfect and then it crumbled under the weight of their own stupidity; Thorin realized this as soon as they started fixing everything for another day of journey. For more than two days, they had not spoken more than a few words about food, shelter and where to go next. Soon, they had cleared everything up and their feet were taking them up the river stream until they could pass through the ice and approach the mountainside without so much trouble.

Those nights had been horrible, with so much cold and silence filled only by the howling wind. The fire and the blankets had been warm, and his body had thanked this comfort but he still shivered and a part of him knew it had nothing to do with the weather. Even now that they had started walking again, there was nothing but coldness in Thorin’s heart, his eyes every once in a while turning to the elf who seemed too far away, almost untouchable.

Thorin stood at the edge of the hill, his eyes swept around the edges down to a great cliff. His blue eyes went from one end to the other until they examined the bottom of the cliff. He thought once they were back on the road the tension between them would be broken and they could at least go back to their friendship, those nights of meaningless conversation in which Thorin would tell a story and Thranduil would simply smile, laugh or comment. Now, there was only silence, tension and something heavy in their hearts.

“You should not stand so close to the edge,” Thranduil said softly beside him, the dwarf scowled at this looking away.

“I am perfectly capable of standing here without any danger, King Thranduil, but thank you for your concern.” Thorin gave his back to the elf walking alongside the edge while his eyes continued the careful observation of the cliff and the mountainside.

For some reason Thorin took a deep pleasure knowing Thranduil was following him close behind, he held back his smile knowing the elf was worried about his well-being.

“I know you are capable of such feature, however I have been beside you long enough to know you are prone to do foolish feats.” Thranduil replied this time around his hand grabbed him tenderly by his shoulder. “There is no need for you to proof me right.”

“What’s to you anyway?” Thorin replied rather harshly stepping back from the hand, “You have memorized the map by now, so if anything were to happen to me you know the way to the west. To your people without worrying about me, or me having to wonder why you want to leave me.”

Thorin didn’t mean to sound so bitter, he didn’t mean to be so harsh and petty but he could not help it. He saw realization crossing those silver eyes and he hated all this mess he had gotten himself into.

“Thorin…” Thranduil started but Thorin waved away his hand.

“You know what? I didn’t ask for this!” Thorin finally lifted his hands into the air, his blue eyes gleaming with emotion as they set on Thranduil. “I did not ask for a dragon to take away my home, or for you to come into my life in the most unexpected way. I did not ask for you to forget and for me to carry the weight of this mission. But, here I am. Taking everything in because I was taught this was the way a Prince, a King should do things.”

Thranduil stood there watching as Thorin merely ranted passing left and right scratching the back of his neck.

“You, King Thranduil, were someone different to what I thought you will be and everything was perfect until we got to Túnsberg.” Thorin then glanced at the sky. “I just…I missed my friend and I do not know how to reach out to you because I really don’t know what’s going on.”

And, it was not a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth either.

Thorin drown the glimpse of guiltiness in his mind when he saw the regretful stare on Thranduil’s face. Thorin knew Rose had been right all along, Thranduil had been feeling some attraction for him and Thorin was not indifferent to this; while at first he could say it was merely lust, now after all this time, he was not so sure. The Dwarven-Prince could not allow his feelings to grow, and he certainly could not lead Thranduil down that path; for one, Thranduil was an amnesiac King who really did not know nothing about their past, or the dealings between Mirkwood and Erebor. Whatever happened between them could not go beyond friendship for anything deeper than that would feel as if Thorin had taken advantage of the situation for his own gain, his and that of his King.

And second, whatever their past, whatever the conflict between their races; Thorin was and would always be a Prince of Dwarven Honour. He would never exploit the lack of memory from the elf for his own pleasure, no matter how much he wanted.

So, Thorin stood there opening partially to the elf, because he had missed their conversations. He really did, and he had come to appreciate the company of the elf; he really did not want to part from him. Thranduil locked his eyes with his, Thorin could see as that elven mind worked around an explanation. Then, the elf made a jerking movement with his hands before facing Thorin who was holding back his own expression of anger and tiredness.

“I’m not sure what happened.” Thranduil replied slowly furrowing his brows looking around them and before setting his eyes on Thorin. “I think I was mad because it is easier for you to connect with others and I just…I can’t remember how to do it, I don’t feel myself as of late.”

Thorin pressed his lips together before speaking again, this time around with just a hint of humour on his tone.

“If you want me to be honest, I don’t think this has nothing to do with you losing your memory but more with you being…well, you.” Thorin held back his smile when the elf glared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, with that stoic face and that pansy stance you were not very welcoming of strangers talking to you." Thorin smirked as Thranduil's glare intensified. "I mean, you barely spoke with grandfather back in the mountain, I think this inability to talk to others is one of your traits.”

“You’re calling me unsociable?”

“Well, I won’t call you outgoing and sociable,” Thorin replied dryly. “I swear you made cry one of the courtiers that were serving you.” Thorin chuckled remembering just that one day, that single moment in which he had thought Thranduil was a complete arse.

Thranduil straightened up his glare intensifying just as his cheeks took on a red colouring. Thorin then scratched the back of his head again shaking his head approaching the elf with an easy smile, his eyes trying to convey how sorry he was for tossing the elf aside while trying to sort out his own heart and thoughts. The elf snorted lowering his gaze.

“I am not unsociable.” He mumbled. “I just…I’m not myself, I guess.”

“Well, I like this version of you better, you know?” Thranduil perked up at this, Thorin was looking away caressing his beard.

“You do?”

“Yeah, less of an arse, more like a...lost puppy.”

The laughter of the dwarf was soon quieted down by a ball of snow crashing on his face, Thranduil turned around and left before Thorin could react. The dwarf continued laughing promising retribution, missing the softening of elven features and the smile adorning the face of the Elven-King.

* * *

After those initial days everything seemed to change.

It was not completely the way it was before they came into contact with the town of men, but it wasn’t as awkward or as tense as it had been before. They were treading with care, Thranduil because he realized he did miss Thorin and their banter, and Thorin because he really needed to put a protective wall around himself and the elf to be the level head.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Thranduil finally asked when they reached the mountain canyon a couple of days later.

There was something beautiful about the land spreading out before them, the Grey Mountains was a mountain range that went from east to west covering the land with an imposing shadow. Thranduil could see the different elevations of the bedrock, his elven eyes could catch the sight of plants and animals, mostly eagles living in the highest point of the summit. Thranduil observed the snow and the small water streams that would feed the great rivers of the world. He was overwhelmed by the sight, his heart tightened with emotion as the earth connected with the sky in such a simple way. This was completely different to Erebor and, while Erebor had a special placed in his heart; Thranduil thought the Grey Mountains was something he had never experienced before.

“It’s quite a sight, eh?” Thorin said beside him, his eyes rising to the sky while his lips curled up in a soft smile.

“It is.” Thranduil took a deep breath experiencing the myriad of aromas surrounding the valley. “There is something I don’t regret about my memory loss.”

Thorin faced Thranduil leaning in with his eyes wide open, Thranduil seemed lost in thought his lips curling up slowly before he turned to face Thorin.

“Every time I came across something new, something I should know or remember but I don’t, it’s as if I am experiencing it for the first time.” He stated and his voice carried with it the joy this stirred in the elf. “My mind tells me I have seen them before, or at least mountains such as this. Names of forgotten lands stirred in my mind but...they meant nothing to me.”

Thorin could not look away from those eyes, the elf was speaking with such an emotion he found himself enthralled by it. Then, Thranduil lowered his gaze his hands twitching slightly before he spoke again, this time around with a low voice dripping nervousness.

“I have discovered many things in the last couple of weeks; I have seen them with the eyes of a new-born.” Thranduil then lifted his face his eyes flickering to Thorin then back to the mountain, “I found myself enjoying this sensation, more so if I am sharing it with you.”

Thorin looked taken aback by this confession, he tilted his head with a tingling warm growing inside his abdomen. He clenched his eyes shut looking away just as his heart hammered fast longingly inside his chest. Thranduil stepped forward towards the edge of the crevice, his body letting go of the tension he had felt when confessing to Thorin; he clenched his jaw refusing to feel nothing but amazement at the mountain and the land he was discovering. He refused to let disappointment or sorrow to come back to him; his confession had come from the deepest part of his soul but it was meant to free his own soul, he did not harbour any hope. Not for himself.

“I was looking for a former dwarven city.” Thorin answered Thranduil’s early question breaking the silence between them by changing the topic. “At the beginning of this age, my people had to leave their home in the mountains because of a dragon.”

Thranduil arched a brow, “history repeating itself?”

Thorin shrugged, “This area down to the east was supposed to be the birth place of dragons, and this one was a cold-drake: Gostir. He was destroyed, but Durin’s Folk could not stay here. So they look for a new home back on the Iron Hills and Erebor.”

“So that’s why we have come all the way to the mountainside.” Thranduil commented arching a brow to Thorin who shrugged kicking a stone down the crevice.

“My duties as a Prince don’t allow me for too much travel, you know?” Thorin explained scrunching up his nose a little. “I have always wanted to go out and experience the world, but I was bounded by duty. I thought…I mean, we know my people are going to the Blue Mountains, and yours probably to Lindon…so…”

Thorin trailed off lowering his shoulders while placing his hand behind his neck, he really was an idiot. He had seen the map and the green route marked by Nikola. His mind had already worked around the Grey Mountains and the exact location of Dáin’s Halls; the urgency to meet his people was still there, he had not forgotten they thought him death than perhaps the might need help but…this was such a unique chance. The younger half of Thorin, the one that still sought out adventure spurred into action and Thorin thought it would be a great opportunity for him to finally meet the Halls of his forefathers. How selfish he had been to think Thranduil would just follow. He had assumed, and even take it from granted since the Elven-King could say no. 

“You really think too much, Thorin.” Thranduil placed his hand to the hilt of his sword tilting his head to the side, “lead the way, I want to see the home of dwarves if you allow me your company when we reach the lands of the elves.”

Thorin opened his eyes while his lips broke into a grin; he nodded sharply shaking his head at the elf.

“You really are a good negotiator, King Thranduil.” Thorin then nodded towards the mountain, “It’s a deal. Once we reached the land of the elves, or whatever place you want to explore I will go with you.”

Thranduil bowed his head hiding away his flustered cheeks, Thorin turned around and started leading the way again

“Come then, I believe this would be a first time I can share with you.”

* * *

As they advanced during the day, Thranduil started noticing the changes on the land.

It was subtle at first, with some formations of land and rock that did not seem completely natural but handmade. His eyes soon found the form of old roads and what seemed to be a small wooden area that was no more but a ghost of what it used to be. They stopped moving as the night finally closed around them, this time around though they could count with the protection of the mountain and the left overs of a small town.

The fire was burning brightly into the night as Thorin tried to warm some water and the left overs of the dry meat they still had on their packages. Soon they would need to start hunting again since they were running out of food already; the last couple of nights had been windless, but from time to time they could hear the howls breaking the silence but it usually came accompanied by the snow or a long, deafening silence.

Still, there was something on that particular night that unsettled the elf. He tried to pinpoint to what exactly it was until he realized he felt observed.

Thorin passed Thranduil a mug with tea, dry meat and dry fruit Thranduil took it gratefully never once looking away from the darkness.

“What is it?” Thorin finally asked sitting beside the elf.

“I’m not sure, I feel…” Thranduil trailed off lowering his gaze to the food. “Observed.”

Thorin furrowed his brows looking into the darkness; his eyes soon went to his axe and sword then to the elven sword that was right in front of Thranduil’s feet.

“It could be a wolf, or some other predator.” Thorin said with a low voice, Thranduil nodded curtly before turning to the dwarf.

Thorin could see the elf was not convinced but he really had not sense anything out of place as of late. The only thing he thought curious was the lack of wind, though he was not about to complain, no wind meant he would not froze during the night and would get a decent night of sleep without trembling from the weather.

“This seemed like an old town, so probably is the past what you feel.” Thorin finally said after a while, “There is something…otherworldly about this place.”

Thranduil turned confused eyes to the dwarf who made a movement of his hand as if it was obvious.

“What do you mean?”

“You know? Like, ghosts? The spirits of those who suffer a terrible death or those evil spirits that haunted places?” Thorin pursed his lips when Thranduil blinked confusedly at this.

“I really don’t know what you mean.”

Thorin opened his mouth to explain but then he soon closed it, he shifted uncomfortably as his body shivered and not necessarily from the cold. His eyes soon went around the ruins around them and his mind brought back whatever had happened in the stories of the dwarven lore.

“Sometimes, the spirits of those who suffered a painful death or of those who had brought evil to the earth haunted the places in the form of otherworldly creatures.” Thorin said softly. “Not going beyond the Halls of Aulë not completely corporeal…just spirits that can still do harm.”

Thranduil tasted the word with his lips and tongue; his eyes showed the confusion he felt under such a revelation and Thorin could not help but think Thranduil was looking rather appealing at the moment. The Dwarven-Prince shook his head looking away; Thranduil took another sip from his tea.

“And, I take it by the fearful tone you used, this is bad?”

“First of all, I was not fearful.” Thorin replied rather annoyed when Thranduil shot him an incredulous stare. “I was not! I just…these are topics we treated with reverence.”

Thranduil snorted and Thorin rolled his eyes looking away from the teasing glint of Thranduil’s silver eyes.

“Second, it is bad because they’re supposed to be death or beyond the land of the living. They should not be here. It’s not natural.” Thorin finally declared crossing his arms as if making a great case.

Thranduil lowered his mug moving his lips from one side to the other, Thorin watched him out of the corner of his eyes his heart fluttering lightly.

“If things are not natural then, they are bad?” Thranduil finally inquired, there was something strange in his voice a tension mixed with uncertainty Thorin was not sure how to interpret.

“Of course.” Thorin said without thinking too much the light of the fire reflecting in his eyes. “If it is not natural then, how can it be good?”

“Even if it is love?” Thranduil asked softly.

Thorin stiffened at this question, he evaded the elf for quite some time but he could not do so for far too long. In the end, he faced Thranduil who was looking at him just as he always did; his beautiful features softened while his grey eyes begged to Thorin to not hurt him. There was curiosity there and Thorin knew what kind of answers Thranduil was seeking; with a heavy heart the dwarf faced the fire nodding curtly.

“Love is such a strong word, King Thranduil.” Thorin said with just a hint of coldness in his voice. “Not many experience it, and sometimes when they do, it could be misplaced. So yes, sometimes, when love is not natural, it simple is not real. Thus, it must be bad.”

Thranduil did not know why he kept doing this to himself, why he kept on seeking that which was not there. For the very first time he shivered, the cold of the winter finally sneaked inside his clothing scratching against his skin until it went deeper to his heart and soul.

“You know what it’s really bad,” Thorin suddenly said his tone changing to one of pure incredulity and teasing. “That you are so good at carving wood without you having any memories at all! It took me years to actually learn the arts, and I’m still not up to my master’s work. How did you do it?”

Thranduil tried to smile but he knew whatever he was doing with his mouth and face came broken and out of place; Thorin did not mention this instead he pretended to not notice while he put out the plank of wood Thranduil thought forgotten on Tom’s workshop. It was the same one he had done the day they met with Nikola.

“Skill, Master dwarf, something it seems I was born with.” Thranduil held back his laughter when Thorin seemed rather annoyed by the tone he was using. “And, it seems you were not blessed with.”

“Now, you’re on, elf.” Thorin rummaged on his back pack putting out two thick planks of wood no bigger than his hand, he smirked at the elf fully aware of the sadness still reflecting on those silver eyes.

“Here, you can have one, and then I can have the other.” Thorin put the carving tools out of his package placing them on the ground. “Now, you have an hour to do whatever pleases you, _Master elf_ , and then we will see who’s better.”

“And, who is going to be the judge?” Thranduil inquired already grabbing the materials, his mind forming an idea.

“Well, for now, ourselves, but as soon as we met someone else on the road we will make them decided.”

Thranduil laughed at the absurdity of it all and, while his heart was broken and whatever glimpse of hope left his body; Thranduil could not deny the dwarf this moment. Whether he was conscious of this or not, Thorin had a way to warm up to the elf, to make him experience peace and happiness. And, while Thranduil knew the desired of his heart was not possible, he did not want to let go of the possibility of being a friend to the Dwarven-Prince; his heart could take it whatever Thorin were to offer.

“Would you mind telling me about Dáin’s Hall?” Thranduil asked suddenly eyeing Thorin who opened his eyes a little. “The story before the cold-drake attacked?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment before he nodded sharply; his hands were already busy as he started telling Thranduil the story. And, as the night progressed and both of them tried to win the childish contest, their affection kept on growing instead of diminishing or taking the form of a friendship. Thranduil could not stop himself; in his mind and heart this was the first time he experienced such an emotion. And Thorin…deep inside his soul, he did not want to stop whatever it was between them.

* * *

By the time morning came the wind was back.

This time around it came accompanied by a heavy cloud threatening a storm on the land; Thranduil was glancing at the sky before setting his eyes on Thorin who was busy fixing the straps of his backpack.

The elf softened slightly remembering the night before; their little competition had ended with a tie. Thranduil had tried carving out an eagle flying above the crest of the Grey Mountains while Thorin had tried working on the forms of the Throne Hall in Erebor. Both works had been finished between the hour and, after that, there was only light conversation and deep slumber, at least from Thorin's part. Thranduil could not sleep so he took it upon himself to take care of Thorin all through the night.

“I think if we go down this way we will find it before midday.” Thorin came to Thranduil furrowing his brows down the road ahead of them. “Can you see anything down there?”

Thranduil pursed his lips shaking his head, “there is not much to see, Thorin. I think a storm is approaching and there is far too much snow and wind at the moment.”

The elf cocked his head to glance down at the valley, but there was nothing Thranduil had not seen before and yet, he still sensed eyes on him. His body prepared itself without him noticing, all the muscles in his arms and legs tense while his fingers fidgeted ready to grab the hilt of his sword. The elven ears twitched while his eyes seemed sharp trying to look beyond the morning mist, once again there was a strange howling in the air.

“Is something wrong?” Thorin approached Thranduil glancing to the same spot the elf seemed to be looking at.

“I can’t stop feeling as if we’re being watched.” Thranduil replied looking down to Thorin then at the valley. “It’s strange, I have never experienced this. Not until now.”

Thorin pressed his lips together his body already reacting to what Thranduil had said. While he could see or hear nothing, he did not doubt the veracity of the elf’s words, he trusted in Thranduil and those ancient instincts that were part of who Thranduil was. Thorin could see the elf was ready for a surprised attack, his hand had not left the hilt of the elven blade since early that morning.

“I think we should get going then,” Thorin said but he did not raise his voice speaking only to his companion. “You’re right, a storm seemed to get closer and we will need a better shelter for tonight and, if you’re so restless about this, we should have our weapons at the ready.”

Thranduil bowed his head in acknowledgement and soon they started their journey again. The tension never left them, not through the morning as they made a quick swept of the ruins below the mountain not after they took a rest to eat something for lunch. As the day advanced so did the winds and the threatening storm, the sky went dark and the winds swirled around with heavy snowflakes and icy drops brought by the heavy clouds.

Just when they were thinking of approaching the mountain to seek a cave or a crevice the howling intensify and this time around Thorin and Thranduil could make out the sound of several creatures.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes finding with some difficulty his opponents in the form of black forms coming from between the snow squalls. His body stiffened just as his hand wrapped tightly around the sword, he looked out of the corner of his eyes to see Thorin was already grabbing his axe standing on his feet waiting for the creatures to spring into action.

It wasn’t until they heard laughter that the first attack came.

Thorin knew his only experience came from fighting a dragon, and even like that it wasn’t a great example of how much he had been in combat. The dwarf soon found out why an orc and a warg together were so dangerous, the beast sprinted through the snow with ability while its rider slashed through the side and above. Thorin had just enough time to step back and parry the first attack before falling to the ground to evade the rancid muzzle of the warg.

The dwarf rolled over dodging a paw and then another slash, his axe doing nothing more than defend him under the attack. More laughter just as the orc above the creature dismounted and came at him, arms lifted ready to strike; Thorin growled sitting up while throwing his axe to the enemy. It didn’t kill him, but it was enough to make him staggered backwards and for Thorin to stand up soon his hand was holding his sword and without giving it too much thought Thorin went in for the beast. His heart was beating hard, it was deafening while his blood poured excitedly through his veins; Thorin swirled around grabbing his sword with both hands until his arms fell with strength on the side of the moving animal.

Thorin knew he had hurt him because the warg screeched in pain, but he had not time to wounder anything else for his sword soon found the metal of an orcish scimitar. There were no sparks, but Thorin felt the vibrations coming from the clashing off metal, he stepped back almost regretting this as a fist came flying towards his head, he stepped back again lowering his face while pushing his arms forward. The orc failed and the strength he used to launch the punch was its perdition for Thorin took his imbalance to press through until he broke the contact of their swords and came back with a thrust right to the orcs abdomen and then down to his thigh.

The snow squalls was already making everything difficult to follow, Thorin could feel the coldness crawling down his clothes, the gusty winds making it difficult to see or to focus on one single shadow. The Dwarven-Prince was breathing hard, both of his opponents had been hurt but not killed, he made a face approaching the fallen orc who was cursing in the Black Tongue when a couple of howls were heard through the land. Thorin opened his eyes scare as he turned around to see Thranduil was disposing of one of the wargs while reading his sword to face another opponent. Thorin grabbed his sword ready to help the elf when he remembered his own fight. Without so much as mercy in his eyes Thorin thrusts his sword through the orcs head wincing at the cracking of bones and the gurgling sounds from the creature.

Once the adrenaline wore off Thorin released the grip he had on his sword, his eyes sought for his axe just as he went to finish of the warg. For a brief moment, Thorin was left numb with just enough time to register what had happened until a bloodcurdling scream broke the silence and Thorin turned sharply to see Thranduil kneeling down on the ground.

Thorin’s breath caught on his throat, his eyes opened wide and before he could register he was running towards the elf. His heart was beating violently against his chest, his hand sweaty clenching tightly his axe and sword until it was hurting his arms.

“No.” Thorin all but scream as he saw the blood on the ground, his heart leaping painfully on his chest just as he came in time to stop the attacker for finishing off the elf.

Thranduil clenched his teeth tight, his silver eyes gleaming dangerously as his right hand went to the wound on his abdomen. He had tried to go for his sword but had been too slow, he cursed the fates for he had sensed there was something wrong in the air, he should have been faster, smarter than these creatures. But the sound of Thorin fighting beside him had been distracting enough.

“Elvish meat…” The orc laughed approaching Thranduil, there was only a warg left and two orcs, Thranduil grabbed his sword with his left hand his eyes calculating the risks focusing on the more immediate threat.

He knew he had to dispose of the warg before going for the orc, the orc might wild a sword and be slightly more intelligent, but the warg was heavier, faster and lethal. Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek ready to fight but he had underestimated his wound, he fell back to the ground and the warg was the first one to approach.

He never got to his destiny, Thorin cut off his head with a single slash of his axe before he threw it directly to the closest orc. Thranduil opened his eyes wide watching the second one approaching, with an effort he stood up until his sword clashed against the scimitar of the orc, Thorin had no time to waste since the first orc came at him and he had to go to his sword this time.

He would try to get Thranduil on his line of vision as he fought with his own opponent; Thranduil was fighting as he did everything else, with muscle memory. His slashes were lethal but they were slow and lack the strength to disarm his opponent. The elf favoured his right side while his right hand grabbed tightly the wound on his abdomen.

“Yes, distract yourself dwarf, we will feast tonight on your flesh and that of the elf.” The orc cackled his arm slashing left and right to keep Thorin on his fight.

Thranduil whimpered when the orc hit him on his leg, he knelt down lowering his head, his golden locks covering his face while his ears twitched hearing the laughter of the creature. He slumped forward, tired and hurt, his left hand tightening around the hilt of his sword and just before the orc gave the last stroke Thranduil lifted his left arm and his elven blade went through the chest of the creature those black eyes lost any light of life and the black blood poured from his mouth.

Then, everything went silent.

The Elven-King thought of the foolishness of his wound, his silver eyes glaring with disgust at the orc while he tried to clean up the dark blood from his blade. A sharp pain went through his side and he bend forward until a pair of hands grabbed him by his shoulders, he gasped in shock as his sword almost cut the head of the dwarf glancing at him with worry in his blue eyes.

“I almost kill you.” Thranduil all but whispered and in his voice it was evident he was hurting.

Thorin gave a half smirk though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Please, you can never hurt me, Thranduil. Not in this state anyway.”

Thranduil nodded sharply wincing, “I do not think I can continue like this.”

“No, you can’t.” Thorin was trembling and his voice had turned deeper, colder and those eyes lost all worry and soon were gleaming with anger. “What were you thinking? Fighting like this! Letting yourself get hurt!”

“It wasn’t as if I sought it out, Thorin.” Thranduil replied furrowing his brows in confusion. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“No, it was mine.” Thorin all but spat out, “You were worried about me, about my well-being.”

“Yes, of course I was but this is not…”Thranduil started highly confused by this sudden outburst from the dwarf, Thorin shook his head squeezing the elf’s shoulders reassuringly.

“Can you walk?” Thranduil lifted his chin in defiance, with some effort he untangled himself from Thorin and stood his full height.

“I can.”

Thorin opened his mouth then closed it when his blue eyes went to the wound. Thranduil placed his hand on his abdomen again, turning away from the strange behaviour of the dwarf.

“I think we can seek refugee down this place before we can rest and I can look at your wound.” Thorin turned around to look at the bodies of the orcs and wargs. “It doesn’t seem as if they were part of a bigger group but…you never know.”

Thorin never left the side of the elf, and Thranduil was staggering right beside Thorin both of them looking for a nice place to rest. The wound was bleeding profusely and Thranduil knew soon he would need to sit down and do something about it, just as he was about to say this to Thorin the dwarf gasped in shock and jogged ahead of them.

“We’re here! We were close after all!” The dwarf turned to Thranduil smiling broadly until he saw the pained expression on the elven features. Thorin felt his heart dropped when he realized Thranduil was bleeding, those eyes slightly scare.

“Thorin…” Thorin ran towards the elf getting there on time before Thranduil fell unconscious to the ground.


	9. The Confession

**Chapter 9**

**The Confession**

What had started like a snow squall turned out to be a blizzard.

Thorin grabbed the pot firmly, scrunching up his eyes as he approached the entrance of the outpost he had reached on time before the snow and winds could do some serious damage on him or the elf he had carried on his back . The Dwarven-Prince examined the snow covering the entrance of the shelter; he pursed his lips pouring the new snow inside the pot so he could get the water they would need for the night. The sound of the strong winds and the raging storm echoed in the room behind him.

Thorin straightened up glaring at the blizzard while his eyes caught shadows of what used to be a great Dwarven City. When he had the idea of visiting this place he did not imagine he would do so in the midst of a heavy storm, with a wounded elf and with the weight of so many troubles inside his soul and mind. Thorin pursed his lips turning around to the see the light of the fire he had started flickering in the shadows, he hesitated just as the old fear of almost losing Thranduil came back.

The room suddenly felt smaller, darker and as he glanced at the flickering light Thorin remembered the time in which Dís had asked to their mother for a story. They had been hearing about war goats and conquests, about Durin the First and the First Fathers of the dwarves; she had been so fed up with those stories she demanded to know how father and mother had fallen in love with one another.

The footsteps of the dwarf were drowned by the sound of the storm; his eyes flickered to the shadows for a moment, the sight of blood and elven features assault his mind so suddenly he almost dropped the pot on his hand. Thorin clenched his jaw grabbing the pot hard against his hands as he faced the fire again.

As thee room became more visible, Thorin recalled at that time he and Frerin had groaned out until his mother sat and started telling them how at first she did not want Thráin. The Dwarven-Prince was a known seducer, he always got what he wanted until he met with their mother; the she-dwarf was proud and selective not impressed at all by Thráin. Thráin took it personally so he set to conquer her at the best of his abilities. As he got to know her and court her Thráin fell in love, and that was it. Thorin chuckled when he remembered how disappointed Dís had looked, she was waiting for one epic story about love at first sight but their mother had told them something Thorin had kept inside his heart all this time:

“ _You can't love someone you don’t know; there may be lust at first sight. But love? That takes time.”_

As soon as he entered the small room his eyes fell upon the sleeping form of Thranduil; Thorin stood there for what seemed an eternity thinking of the time he had shared with the elf so far. Of those conversation in the middle of the night, of the smiles and songs they shared or how they got to know one another by the small things they discovered along the way. With each footstep, Thorin could see the crumbling of his walls and the faltering of his resolution to keep the distance between them. There had been lust at first sight, Thorin had never denied the beauty of the Elven-King had been entrancing, but love...that had grown in the time they had shared and Thorin could not run this time around. 

His mind soon brought back flashes of blood and elven features white and expressionless, asleep in a slumber Thorin feared he could not break away.

Breaking away from his dark thoughts, Thorin went to sit right beside the elf while heating up the water he brought with him. He tried to not think about how Thranduil had been unconscious for more than two hours, or the fact it was until recently he was able to stop the bleeding. Grabbing one of the cloths he had already fixed for this, he started cleaning up the wound again his eyes wandering around the pale chest of the elf, his fingertips enjoying the soft texture of elven skin.

Thorin clenched his jaw when he saw those elven lips parted taking a deep breath without so much movement. Thranduil seemed to be sleeping peacefully, almost enjoying the attention he was receiving from the dwarf. The fire flickered around them, the room was warm and the sound of the storm was not as strong in this part of the barbican as it had been near the gate. Grabbing the different medicines Rose had given to him, he started rubbing salve around the wound trying to distract himself from any unwanted thoughts. It wasn’t even lustful ones, though Thorin could not deny the elf was alluring; Thorin let out a bitter smile. Thranduil was handsome, with a light that could brighten the darkest of shadows; Thorin was so attracted to it, he knew the first moment he saw the Elven-King on his grandfather’s hall he could get burn badly if he were to give in his desires.

If this was about lust, Thorin knew he could satisfy those needs easily, without too much thought. The trouble was Thorin was not experiencing only lust…but affection.

Thorin had discovered himself wanting to nurture that magnificent light, he wanted to take care of Thranduil, to cherish him to be right beside him…to _love_ him.

As the shadows in the room grew, and the sound of the blizzard echoed in the room, Thorin set to work on his task while the words of his mother danced around his head. If she were alive he knew she would laugh at him before slapping him on the head. She would not approve of the way he was handling the situation, for her his happiness had always been the top priority and she was always hopeful he would fall in love with a good lass or lad that would love him back. That would make him happy.

She had been a dreamer, and Thorin had inherited this from her.

Thranduil whimpered slightly just as Thorin pressed the cloth on the elf’s abdomen; the dwarf furrowed his brows while his hand went to caress the side of the elven face. He softened slightly when those features relaxed and soon they were looking impassive just as beautiful as they ought to be.

“You’re a fool.” Thorin whispered not for the first time as he tended to the elf.

The Dwarven-Prince had been frightened by the sight of blood and the elf falling, he had gotten there to get him in his arms at first not knowing what to do or where to go. But soon his desperation transformed in determination and the protective nature that overcome him when Thranduil whimpered in pain; he had placed the elf on his back dragging him all the way to the edification he had seen.

There was no storm yet, but Thorin could hardly see the great Dwarven-Kingdom spreading before his eyes. It was a ghost city, the mountain and the signs of ruin were already claiming what had been a great Kingdom once. Thorin had not hold up for too long, his eyes drifted to the closest edification and that he chose for them to rest. By the time Thorin could see the wound on Thranduil, he realized the elf had been bleeding for quite some time, the cut had been deep but it had gotten only skin and muscle, nothing else.

Thorin was trying hard to not get drag into the conflicting emotions in his heart and mind. He knew in a few weeks they would be reunited with their respective people; Thranduil would soon have someone who know everything about him, that could sit him down and answer all the questions Thorin had not been capable of answering. They would probably meet with a wife, or a lover, and this thought broke Thorin just a little bit. He knew soon the Elven-King would find himself at the mercy of the history between elves and dwarves, about the history between Mirkwood and Erebor and then he would understand why Thorin’s reluctance.

With a tired sigh, Thorin put his hair back his hands finishing the bandaging work at best he could while he tried to keep his eyes on the wound or Thranduil’s face. He sat down with heavy eyes, his shoulders dropping tiredly while his mind worked around many thoughts and memories; the fear he felt when he thought he could lose Thranduil pierced through his heart and his resolution. Thorin turned to Thranduil wondering just how he was going to keep putting a wall between them if every minute that he was beside Thranduil he found himself wanting him more than ever.

Thorin fell sleep with these thoughts inside his mind.

His heart already making the decision for him.

* * *

Thorin woke to the smell of food.

He stirred from the spot he had taken on the ground, the muscles on his neck and shoulders were stiff as he had fallen asleep on a hard spot. His blue eyes swept around the room just as he remembered where he was and who he was with. His eyes opened wide his body turning sharply to the elf who was sitting down in front of the fire working around, relief soon washed over him as he saw the elf sitting down with his naked chest and the bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen. There was still a patch of blood there, but at least it was not as bad as it had been when Thorin had tried to bandage him the first time.

Thorin’s heart caught on his throat as his eyes soon found those silver globes that were looking at him with such an innocent tenderness, those lips curled up in a content smile and Thorin swallowed down his emotions as he stood up and made his way to the elf.

“You’re awake.” He said kneeling down in front of Thranduil his hands soon went to the wound while his eyes took in the elf sitting right in front of him. He never noticed the shiver that went through Thranduil, not the soft blush on elven cheeks when blue eyes swept around the elf.

When Thorin finally lifted his eyes he found himself looking into silver ones, elven eyes gleaming with affection and tiredness.

“How are you feeling? How is the wound?” Thorin asked scowling lightly as he put distance between himself and Thranduil.

“I feel better, just tired and sore.” Thranduil replied shrugging. “The orc got lucky, and the wound was not too deep, though it was bleeding profusely.”

Thorin faced the elf with anger and concern in his eyes, “You lost blood, and you seemed to have exhausted your energy after the fight. I have to drag you all the way to this place and make sure you did not bleed to death.”

Thranduil tilted his head with his eyebrows lifted slightly, “It was not that bad.”

“Not that bad?!” Thorin sputtered and the old fear was back, he leaned closer to the elf who suddenly was well aware of the closeness of the dwarf. “I thought…you were unconscious again! With blood coming from that forsaken wound and I was…”

“You were what?” Thranduil asked softly when Thorin trailed off and his hands fell on his lap.

“Scared.” Thorin finally confessed leaning back and sitting down right beside Thranduil.

“Oh.” Thranduil said nothing more though he lowered his eyes to the bandages around his abdomen, then he turned to see Thorin was glaring at the fire with his fists clenched as if he had dared to voice thoughts he was supposed to never reveal.

“Why were you scared? It was not a mortal wound, and you said so yourself I was exhausted after the fight.” Thranduil said with his voice above a whisper, Thorin shifted uncomfortably at his side for a moment the silence between them stretched until the elf felt a warm hand above his.

“It was the blood…” Thorin said squeezing Thranduil’s hand tenderly as if reassuring himself the elf really was awake. “I just…I find it unbearable to see blood….your blood, and my own inability to help you out.”

Thranduil could feel his heart beating fast, his mind going blank at these words and yet he tried to hold himself from hoping. From desiring. Thorin had said so once, they were friends and Thorin felt responsible for him whether Thranduil wanted or not. Whether Thorin admitted it or not.

“It was never my intention to scare you.” Thranduil replied. “I was going to tell you but I guess…I was more tired than I realized.”

Thorin nodded curtly letting out a heavy sigh before he set his attention on the food Thranduil had been preparing, their hands still tightly wrapped.

“I think I can forgive your foolishness, King Thranduil, if you offer me something of what you’ve been cooking.” Thorin placed his hand on his own abdomen. “I’m starving.”

Thranduil smiled softly taking his hand away reluctantly before going back to his early task, the food was ready and he was going to safe some for Thorin. So, after a few more minutes both of them found themselves eating in front of the fire with an unmerciful storm still lashing onto the land.

“So, once again I found myself in a strange cave with you sleeping by my side,” Thranduil commented lightly. “Where are we?”

Thorin pursed his lips taking another bite from his food before waving his hand around.

“This is the barbican; it was the old outpost just outside the main gates of the city.” Thorin looked around before settling his eyes on Thranduil. “We could not make it further into the former city since you were heavier than you look, the blizzard was already here and I really needed a rest.”

“I’m not that heavier.” Thranduil replied rather offended by the suggestion, he had walked above the snow whereas Thorin had to struggle to even keep up with the elf.

“Yes, you were.” Thorin snorted shaking his head. “The only good thing is that you did not strain my clothes with your blood, though I cannot say the same for your clothes.”

Thranduil shook his head furrowing his brows lightly, “I really like them. But, it can’t be help, I guess.”

Thorin nodded before shifting slightly, “I could…well, if you want that is, I could sew the undershirt and the robe. It was not that bad and…”

“You could?” Thranduil raised his brows rather surprised by this.

“Of course I could! We dwarves are knowledgeable in the arts of crafting, every kind of crafting.” Thorin replied proudly. “Just give me some time and I will leave it like new.”

Thranduil smiled shyly at this, he turned to face Thorin leaning in while his hand lifted to move a strand of air away from the dwarf’s face. Every time Thranduil thought he could not fall further in love with Thorin the dwarf would do something unexpectedly nice, he would come boisterous talking about his people, his abilities, his dreams and Thranduil found himself engulfed in a fire that was purely Thorin.

It was under this stare that Thorin found himself frozen in place, his blue eyes could not look away from the elf’s silver ones. Thorin could hear a small voice inside his head telling him something was wrong, that they should not be this close and that he certainly should not feel attracted by the elven face just inches away from his.

But Thorin heeded not to the voice, but to his heart who was telling him he should leaned in and take what was being offered. What the both of them wanted.

“I don’t think I have thank you enough, have I?” Thranduil all but whispered moving closer to the dwarf, Thorin felt his resolution slipped away as the elf lifted a hand, tilting his head until his hair fell to his naked shoulder and arm, those silver eyes warm begging silently.

“Whatever for?” Thorin cleared his throat when his voice came rather rusty, Thranduil tilted his head to the side pressing his lips together, his heart was beating so hard and so fast, he was surprised Thorin had not heard it beating against his ribcage.

“You not only save me back in Erebor, you really have been taken care of me even when I do not need it.” Thranduil continued and his voice seemed to drop just a little, his tone deeper and almost inviting. “I have never thanked you for being by my side, and now I don’t know how to thank you for taking care of me again, for healing me.”

“I could not let you bleed to death now, could I?” Thorin tried to smile but his muscles were tight, his eyes went from those silver eyes to those lips that were partying slightly.

“Thorin, I need…” Thranduil knitted his brows together, “I want to thank you.”

“You don’t have to, you fool.” Thorin replied though his heart was hammering against his chest and his mind was completely blank. “I could not…lose you.”

Thranduil leaned forward nodding, “Of course, my people would be mad if you were to.”

Thorin then locked his blue eyes with silver ones shaking his head his mouth moving before he could even get a hold of what he was about to say.

“I do not care about that, Thranduil. I only care that I almost lost you and I could not bear the thought of you slipping away from me.”

“Why?” Thranduil inquired with just a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, his heart fluttering with want as Thorin, without giving it a second thought, closed the gap between them.

Thorin forgot why this was not a good idea, he forgot his duty and his people he even forgot there was a long history of enmity between dwarves and elves and that probably Thranduil did not mean _this_ when he said he wanted to thank him.

But Thorin could not hold onto his sanity any longer. His resolution crumbled under the closeness of the elf, under the begging eyes of Thranduil and those inviting lips.

When Thorin leaned in to take those lips in his all the doubts and reasons as to why they should not do _this_ went away. The first touch of those soft lips against his was electrifying; it sent a tingling sensation all through his body until it was overwhelming his mind and heart. Thorin had kissed many males and females before, he had enjoyed the good and the bad; but his kiss with Thranduil was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Thorin lifted his hand until it wrapped itself tenderly on the nape of the elf’s neck, the dwarf almost smiled when Thranduil tilted his head submitting himself to the kiss allowing Thorin to deepen the contact. Thorin wasted no time and soon he tasted the sweet flavour that was the Elven-King, the dwarf’s tongue swept around drinking in the soft whimpers from the elf. Thranduil leaned in, his hands lifting up until they closed around the arms of the dwarf holding himself up so as to not let go.

They both kissed as if it was their first time and soon a thought occur to Thorin, that for Thranduil this might as well be his first time.

Thorin opened his eyes breaking the kiss abruptly and moving back from the elf, his eyes were completely opened. They were horrified as he took in the swollen lips of the elf, the heavy breathing and those silver eyes glancing with pure and unaltered love.

The Dwarven-Prince stood abruptly shaking his head before leaving the room in a hurry; he never turned back though he knew he had left a broken-hearted Thranduil behind.

The blizzard lashed out against the earth with force and vengeance, the wind roared wildly drowning the sound of hurtful whimpers coming from the elf and guilty words uttered by a confused Dwarven-Prince.

* * *

Thorin did not stop running until he was right at the entrance of the outpost where the storm hit him with force pushing him back. The Dwarven-Prince lifted his arms to protect his face while he took five steps back into the protective darkness of the barbican.

The razing windstorm battered against the mountain rumbling as it increased in intensity. Thorin watched the white and grey colours of the outside as his hands went directly to his head ruffling his hair, he could not stop thinking about the kiss. The memory of soft lips against his, the sweet taste of elven mouth, how Thranduil felt against him, those arms holding onto his just as he submitted to the kiss. And then, those silver eyes…

Thorin let out a growl of frustration, why had he done it?

WHY?!

He could not shake the sight of elven eyes, silver like mithril watching him with unrestricted trusts and affection. Thorin could not shake the growing affection he himself felt for the elf, or how terrified he had been when he thought Thranduil was badly hurt. The Dwarven-Prince started pacing around the entrance hall of the barbican, his hands rubbing the back of his head just as he tried to forget and focus his mind on something that wasn’t elven lips moulding perfectly against his. Thorin let out a frustrated sigh hitting his forehead against the stone of the closest column.

Why did he do it?

Why did he lose control of his emotions?

He knew the answer to that question.

He lowered his gaze to see his hands; the hands hours ago were stain with Thranduil’s blood, his throat that clenched at the memory of seeing Thranduil bleeding and cold, unconscious under his own blood. The sight awoke something inside Thorin, the missed chances, the refusal to just explore the possibilities of giving into the elf’s desires and his own desires.

Thorin sighed again letting his eyes wandered around the room he was in, up until now Thorin had not stopped to glance at the world extending before his eyes, the dwarven halls were nothing like the ones back in Erebor or Iron Hills. Death and decay had befallen what used to be a dwarf Kingdom, the halls were dark and murky; it smelled frowsty with some vines and moss coming from the walls. The snow would sneak inside the open gates as the wind blew unmerciful inside cooling up his heated face and racing heart.

Thorin lifted his face his eyes caught the yellowish light of the fire deep inside the former guards room, he swallowed down his own cowardice while he distracted himself with the hem of his shirt. He knew he needed to go back and face the elf, he knew he needed to explain everything to Thranduil and clear the air between them.

But, as he thought this, Thorin did not make any attempt to move from his spot. He kept glaring at the ground, whatever resolution he had built to keep away from the elf crumbling under the memory of a single kiss. A single look…

Thorin shook his head clenching his eyes closed while leaning against the stone, he wished things were not as complicated it as they were at the moment.

*****

Thranduil was not completely sure how long he sat there with his eyes completely focused on the fire. His ears would twitch from time to time grasping the sounds of crackling fire, of thunderous winds coming from the outside. Ever since he woke up back in the caves of Erebor Thranduil had undergone so many experiences, sometimes he had to stop for a moment to sort them out.

The Elven-King remembered that first time in which the wind touched his face, and he experienced the world outside. His eyes had wondered before such a sight, and then he was overwhelmed with the knowledge of what he was missing, of what he could not remember clearly but that he _knew_ deep inside his heart. How had he loved the comfort coming from Thorin, the dwarf had been awkward and out of place when he tried to bring comfort;but never, not even once, did he dare to lie to Thranduil, and the elf had appreciated the gesture. It was because of this detail, he knew Thorin was trustworthy, that the other male could be someone he could rely on for the time being. But, as he got to know him to speak with him…to share with him, Thranduil found himself warming up to Thorin, he found himself admiring his fire and his determination. Thranduil sought out to hear his stories, to see those blue eyes gleaming with happiness and laughter; Thranduil yearned to see the other male smile or simply sat beside him to sing, to share his time with Thranduil. The Elven-King knew, without a glimpse of doubt, whatever he had been feeling for Thorin was love and this was something he could not take back. He didn’t want to stop feeling it.

A sharp pain went through his left side; Thranduil took his hand to the wound that seemed to be bleeding at the moment. He furrowed his brows noticing just how cold he was, how lonely and how lost he was at the moment; the physical pain was nothing to the discomfort settling on his heart and soul. The cold that at another moment did not bother him at all was now crawling inside his skin without him understanding why.

The only thing Thranduil knew for sure was that, whenever he was feeling in such a way all he need to do was to…

The Elven-King straightened up looking away from the flames.

He had come to rely so much on Thorin now the cure for his comfort depend on his smile, on those blue eyes seeking his, on the company the Dwarven-Prince provided him with. It had been so easy to look for comfort with Thorin, whenever he was trying to reach out for his elusive memory only to come face to face with the familiar white fog in his mind, he had turned to Thorin and his stories. The Dwarven-Prince had offered comfort with his words and stories, Thranduil knew he didn’t need to say anything for Thorin to understand why he was sad or simply lost; in those moments, he would just share nonsense, stupid adventures of his youth or some other story that would make Thranduil smile and forget.

The flames flickered changing the shadows on the wall, Thranduil let out the breath he did not know he was holding. For a moment his eyes glanced outside the room, and he could see him. There sitting against a column near the frozen entrance of the outpost was Thorin. And it took only one long glance for Thranduil to relieve those lips against his, the prickling sensation of a beard against his face.

Thranduil turned cold eyes to the fire, his face lifting up to the ceiling as his body tensed under his silent command. He wished he could forget _that_ moment, that he could forgo his feelings for the dwarf.

_“I will make sure we are out of here”_

_“Trust me.”_

And Thranduil did.

He trusted Thorin because he did not have a choice, even in the midst of his hesitation and uncertainty, he trusted the dwarf because there was something in him that warmed up to the elf. Thranduil took a quick peek to the sword and he circlet, he recognized in those items the status he held amongst his people; he did not need for Thorin to explain to him he was King he _knew_ there was something special about those items, about his clothes. Thranduil remembered just how natural had it felt to held the sword on his hand, how his movements were calculated but so fluid as if he had been doing it for quite some time.

He probably had.

The pure anger he experienced when those creatures appeared early in the day, it was like a glimpse to the past. He had disposed easily of the warg, and he could have done the same with the others if he hadn’t been distracted by the sound of Thorin and sheer panic rising in his chest at the thought of the Dwarven-Prince hurt. The Elven-King broke into a bitter smile, his eyes lowering to the wound he was now wearing on his abdomen; in the end, his distraction had cost him the fight and his trust had cost him his heart.

Thranduil let out a tired sigh, he knew what he had been experiencing was not wise. And yet, he had encouraged it even before they reached Túnsberg, he had played with the idea because Thorin was easy on the eye, and his personality and his stories…

The elf closed his eyes taking a deep breath.

He stood up making his way towards the pots and the tea they had packed, his brows furrowed as he found his waterskin and decided sleep would not come on that night and he would need tea. Even if it broke him deep inside, he knew he needed to speak with Thorin and cleared up the air around them; their journey had just begun and there was still a long way to their people and they could not afford this meaningless distraction.

* * *

There was no place to hide, and they certainly could not run.

It was a matter of time for them to talk with each other, and the real question was what they wanted the outcome to be.

Thranduil was not the one who knew what he had been missing, his amnesia was both a curse and a blessing because it allowed him to start anew but it also made him face the fact he had a duty to fulfil to his people. To his son.

Thorin for his part was torn in between his duty, his title and what would happen once they reached their people. He was completely sure about what the outcome would be; he could see the conflict and the heartbreak. Thorin could imagine the outrage from his grandfather and Prince Legolas. He really was thinking way too much about something he was not even sure was really happening.

And, it was in the midst of such storming thoughts that Thorin stood up and went to face Thranduil.

The small chamber was lit up by the fire he had set earlier; Thranduil had his shirt on sitting down in front of the fire with an unreadable expression on his face. Thorin hesitated at the entrance, his stomach tingling anxiously as his eyes soon found those silver orbs. He was no longer looking into Thranduil’s eyes he was, once again, facing the Elven-King.

“I made tea.” Thranduil stated signalling a steaming mug close to where he was sitting.

Thorin nodded curtly noticing the voice had also change, there was no warm or kindness there only a cold command. Thorin stepped forward sitting right beside the elf, his cold hands shivered in relief at the warm coming from the mug and the fire; there were no more words, and soon Thorin found himself drinking the hot beverage conscious of the tension growing around them. He had rehearsed his speech back in the darkness of the dwarven halls, but now he found himself incapable of starting the conversation.

He didn’t need to for Thranduil was the first one to break the silence.

“You kissed me.” It was a statement not a question, and Thranduil said it as if he was talking about the weather or the common happenings on his Kingdom.

Thorin gave a side-glance to the elf who was completely serious, not a single crack on his stoic stance or expression. Those silver eyes, those eyes Thorin had come to seek out whenever he wanted to know what Thranduil was really thinking or experiencing were back to be mirrors of power and indifference. How much of the Elven-King was still there hiding behind the elf Thorin had gotten to love.

“Afterwards you left.” Thranduil continued since it was pretty obvious Thorin would not say anything. “You ran from me, and I have to stay here to wonder why. I know it is not because of something I did, even with my lack of memory, a kiss is not that difficult to give.”

Here Thorin had to hold back his smile because, really? Trust the Elven-King to be so self-assured about his ability to give a kiss. Though, Thorin had to admit Thranduil was right, he did know how to give a kiss, Thorin could still feel those lips against his.

Thorin noticed those silver eyes on his, he cleared his throat flustered at being discovered thinking about the kiss. Thranduil snorted though there was not amusement behind the gesture, only bitterness and sadness.

“I have to wonder if then, perhaps, it was because of something I am.” Thranduil broke his stance this time around he did face Thorin making the dwarf turned to face him and look into his eyes. “And then, I came to the conclusion that yes. It is because of who am I that you ran. You did not have this trouble with Rose back in Túnsberg.”

“You don’t understand.” Thorin started but this was the wrong thing to say for soon he found himself under the shadow of the Elven-King and he could see those flaring nostrils and lips flattened, his silver eyes burning as they pinned Thorin to the spot.

“I don’t understand?” The voice was above a whisper, the elf leaned back tilting his head sneering at the dwarf. “I woke up to a world I barely know, Thorin. I do not remember anything beyond that moment, what little shows in my mind are mere images and names I can´t hardly associate with places I don’t even recall.”

“It is you who do not understand.” Thranduil finished with a flat tone shaking his head as if disappointed.

Thorin winced at these words; he did not need to turn to Thranduil to understand exactly what Thranduil meant. Thorin had assumed the Elven-King had already had his share of mental breakdown after they exited the mountain; Thorin had assumed that was it, they started planning and talking and thus the angst of that very first day was forgotten. Thranduil had overcome adversity and now he was ready to start the journey with Thorin, no more drama and no more thinking about his amnesia; this was not the case, of course. Thranduil might not speak about, but it did not mean it wasn't in his mind constantly.

In the midst of such chaos and worries, neither neither of them thought things would turn out the way they did. Or that they would end up in the situation they were at the moment.

Thorin had noticed it, of course.

He had noticed the lingering glances, the softening of voice, the offer to give him massages. The questions about himself, about his home, about his love life; Thorin slumped his shoulders staring at the fire with gloomy eyes, he dare not to look back to the elf who had his full attention on him. 

Thranduil clenched his fist lifting his head, “You don’t even know how lost I’ve been feeling, this desperation growing inside my chest as I try to remember why feeling _this_ for _you_ it’s wrong. But then, all I can seem to think it’s how you came in and help me out.”

Thorin looked away as Thranduil continued.

“How a single glance at you and your stupid smile it’s enough to reassure me everything it’s going to be fine,” Thranduil then snorted shaking his head. “Even when it was obvious we were lost I…”

Here Thranduil hesitated clenching his fists, “I don’t understand? You Prince Thorin had no idea how utterly frustrating it’s to be here wanting nothing more than you to notice me for who am I even though I don’t even know that anymore.”

Silence.

Thranduil was not even breathing hard but he just sat there eerily calm after he finished talking. Thorin dared to look over at the elf and the sight broke his heart, whatever he had been trying to hold back was finally breaking through the faux bravado and indifference and once again he was Thranduil. No more Elven-King, just Thranduil with all his sadness and confusion and his love and all these emotions Thorin awoke in him.

“I do not know who am I, or what it is I am missing.” Thranduil finally said with a tired tone. “And the only thing I am sure about, they only being that makes sense and that I thought it was mine because it was a connection I’ve been building up since I’ve awoke on this world for the second time…”

“He…does not want me.” Thranduil finished with his voice above a whisper.

Thorin turned a sharply to the elf, but Thranduil held his gaze firmly place on the flames dancing in front of him. For a brief moment panic rose inside the dwarf’s mind, panic at having Thranduil slip away from him of perhaps this mess not having a positive resolution.

“It is not that, Thranduil.” Thorin finally said furrowing his brows as he tried to explain, as he tried to reach out to the elf. “You’re not the only one scare, you know?”

This time around Thorin did not back away from the glare and Thranduil continued with his sneer going back to his pose as a King.

“And yet, here I am facing whatever it is happening instead of running around.” Thranduil replied shaking his head, “instead of falling into the arms of someone else.”

Thranduil hated the bitterness in his voice; he hated the growing jealousy in his mind whenever he thought about Rose. About Thorin, about the kisses the two of them had shared while Thranduil _saw_ in the darkness.

Thorin massaged the bridge of his nose; he took a deep breath before speaking.

“I was trying to put some distance between us, I was trying to be understanding and giving you a space to…for this to not grow.” Thorin finally revealed not missing the broken stare Thranduil was giving him.

“Thranduil, you don’t remember but I do. I know exactly what my duty is, what my role with my people and even yours is.” Thorin started explaining, trying to reach out to the elf that now was taken on a stubborn pose. “I am the one who knows and understands what could happen if…”

Thorin slumped before scratching the back of his neck while glancing back at the fire; Thranduil knew he only did this when he was frustrated or embarrassed, the elf could not help the ghost of a smile before he too turned towards the flames.

“I cannot take advantage of this situation, King Thranduil.” Thorin finally said firmly, with resolution dripping from his tone. “I could never do that to you.”

“How noble of you.” Thranduil replied dryly, this time around Thorin was the one shooting an angered stare to the elf.

“Noble? You cannot even phantom just how much our people hate each other!” Thorin clenched his fists shaking his head. “You can’t even imagine the anger you were feeling when you left my grandfather’s council the day Smaug attacked! Whatever it was that happened…whatever it could happen right now…when you remember…”

“If I remember…” Thranduil intervened and Thorin furrowed his brows.

“When you remember,” The Dwarven-Prince said without a hint of doubt in his voice, “you will know, you will recall and then whatever it was you thought about me, about this…will be gone and you will think I did take advantage of you and the situation.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“This has nothing to do with your intelligence, King Thranduil!” Thorin exclaimed lifting his arms. “This has everything to do with the fact you really don’t know what you’re missing, and I do. And that’s why I know, in the end, this is not possible. That's why when I noticed your interest I decided to give us, you a space. This will be gone.”

Thranduil opened his eyes slightly, his lips were quivering under the anger he was feeling. Thorin did what he did best; he lifted his face confronting the elf sitting right beside him. At some point they had turned completely just facing one another, their chest heaving and their eyes burning with all the emotions they were experiencing at the moment.

“You’ve been running from me.” Thranduil clenched his teeth after this declaration. “How long? How long have you know I…That I…Why didn’t you come to me? Why did you…”

Thranduil felt betrayed and he made it obvious in the way he was looking at Thorin. The dwarf shifted uncomfortably furrowing his brows.

“I knew I could not break your heart, so I just thought some distance would do some good.” Thorin replied trying to get some sense of control on the situation.

“And, in doing so…you did break my heart, you’re still doing it.” Thranduil replied tiredly “Why do you keep doing it? Why did you kiss me?

“It was a mistake.” Thorin hated the crestfallen expression on the elf, he leaned forward hesitant as he continued. “I can’t, Thranduil. My duty…”

“Duty? Your noble heart doesn’t allow you to take advantage of me? But it does allow you to break my heart?!”

“No! I don’t…” Thorin saw as the conversation spiral out of control, Thranduil had unshed tears in his face and those elven features were stuck on of pain and disbelief.

“Thranduil…” The elf jerked away from the touch of Thorin, the dwarf approached him feeling his own heart breaking at the sight before him.

“Please, I just…” Thorin knelt right in front of Thranduil stopping him from standing up and leaving the conversation, Thranduil turned sharply to him and there was anger but behind the anger Thorin saw the sadness he had put there.

In a single second, Thorin had to decide what he wanted.

“Please, it was never my intention to hurt you.” Thorin begged with his eyes holding onto Thranduil who was looking icily at him. “I…I just…I didn’t want for this to be interpreted as if I was taken advantage of you, as if I was trying to get the upper hand for me, for my pleasure, for my people.”

“I am older than you by more than a millennia, Master Dwarf; if anything….it could be me the one taking advantage of you.” Thranduil said swallowing down his anger. 

“If you were half the elf you were when you got to Erebor I have no doubt,” Thorin then tried to smile while his hands squeezed tenderly the arms of the elf. “I have never…you don’t even know what you do to me, Thranduil. I do not want to break your heart, I just thought…this would pass…”

“Well, I have some news for you, you fool. This won’t pass. Not now, not ever.” Thranduil exclaimed closing his eyes before looking away from Thorin, “why do you mock me? If you want this to end…if you really want for us to not pursue these emotions then, let go of me and let me go.”

Thorin was overwhelmed by a wave of sheer panic in his mind, he trembled under such a request and found inside his heart he could not let go.

“I can’t.” He finally whispered furrowing his brows.

“Then, why do you resist me?”

“Because, when you remember…”

“If I remember.” Thranduil replied and Thorin offered a bitter smile.

“When you do, King Thranduil, you could see me for who am I to you, to your people, to your history…” Thorin then shook his head and for the very first time he looked into Thranduil’s eyes revealing what he had been trying to hide for so long.

His blue eyes softened and his hold on the elf faltered, Thranduil stayed there frozen waiting patiently, anxiously for Thorin to speak.

“I did not want to break your heart, and I do not want for us to go on different paths,” Thorin sighed squeezing tenderly on the elf’s arms. “I cannot outrun my feelings for you, King Thranduil. I tried. I tried so you have a choice once we reach our people. But, I know I do not have a choice, my Lord. We dwarves love only once, and against all the history and prejudices, I gave that which I thought would forever be mine.”

Thranduil softened his gaze leaning in just a little Thorin kept his eyes completely focused on his, “I do not know what would happen after today, but I do fear it because you may find relief in your people and time will erase whatever it is you feel for me. But me? I won’t and I would not bear the thought of losing you if there is a chance of me to have you.”

The silence inside the room was broken only by the blowing winds and the cracking of the fire. Then, Thranduil lowered his face, his expression never changing as he closed the space between them.

“You’re an idiot.” Thranduil’s voice was dripping with affection as he did this, and Thorin soon found himself looking directly into elven eyes before the elf closed the space between them and their lips met once again.

And, while Thranduil had planned for the kiss to be a lesson for Thorin, to teach the dwarf that even without memories Thranduil did what he wanted, whenever he wanted and however he wanted; that he didn’t need for Thorin to make decisions for the both of them, he found himself incapable of being anything other than tender. The Elven-King had intended for his kiss to be a crash and clash of lips, full of anger and desire nothing else.

But, as soon as he touched the dwarf’s lips Thranduil melt right away in the myriad of emotions going through his heart and soul. His heart fluttered when those lips moulded against his, those strong arms pulled him closer before a subtle tilt of the head deepened the contact and his lips open in a silent gasp as Thorin’s tongue sneaked inside tasting every corner of his mouth. Thranduil drank from the kiss not knowing when his lesson for the dwarf turned into his own submission to whatever Thorin was ready to give.

Thranduil whimpered when the kiss was over, he could not open his eyes but he felt the intensity of the dwarf’s gaze on him. He shivered when Thorin pressed his forehead against his, tenderly almost reverently.

When Thranduil opened his eyes he found himself looking into the expressionless face of Thorin, the dwarf had his hand firmly placed in the nape of his neck the contact of their foreheads was warm and comforting.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Thranduil.” Thorin whispered and his voice sent a shiver down Thranduil’s back.

“I believe you’re the one who does not understand.” Thranduil replied and this time around he allowed himself a mocking smirk though his eyes softened lightly.

“When you remember…” Start Thorin but Thranduil shook his head.

“If I remember, I won’t forget this, Thorin.” Thranduil replied just as softly. “Trusts me, I won’t forget because you’re engraved in my very soul, Thorin. My heart beats at the sound of your voice, and my mind remembers only you.”

Thorin held him for what seemed an eternity before he nodded curtly and let go of the elf, then placing his hand under the elf’s chin he tilted his head and kiss him softly, tenderly.

“Mahal, help me for I do not think I can let go of you now.” He whispered in between kisses, Thranduil nodded trying to deepen the kiss when a painful groan left his lips.

“Your wound.” Thorin let go rather brusquely his eyes moving down to the abdomen of the elf who placed a hand on the bleeding abdomen. “I forgot about it.”

Thranduil chuckled glancing at his bleeding wound, Thorin stood up making his way to his backpack.

“Let me tend to your wound and then, I think we should eat something.”

Thranduil sat there watching as Thorin seemed to busy himself around with his backpack and the medicine. The elf stood up furrowing his brows while he approached Thorin slowly; he stood behind Thorin placing his hand around his shoulders.

“Are you running again?” Thranduil asked turning the dwarf so they could face one another.

Their eyes met for what seemed an eternity, Thorin sighed shaking his head stepping forward.

“No, I’m not.” He said and when Thranduil opened his mouth to speak Thorin stepped forward his hand closing around the free hand of the elf. “I’m not, you really are hurt and I just…while I enjoy the feeling of your lips I’m not…I don’t want this to turn into something…I mean…”

Thorin rolled his eyes when Thranduil merely quirked a brow at him, those swollen lips drawing in an amused smirk.

“My, so much eloquence coming from a son of the mountain, Prince Thorin.”

“Shut up.” Thorin grumbled looking away.

“I wasn’t about to give in whatever wicked intentions you were scheming.” Thranduil finally said sounding just as amusing as he was looking, this only made Thorin flustered and stepped back shaking his head.

“I was not scheming anything…wicked.” Thorin said cringing at the word his cheeks red.

“I was.” Thranduil replied and Thorin turned his head so hard and fast he almost hurt himself.

“What?!”

Thranduil’s smile grew before he leaned in for another kiss, however, as soon as his lips touch those of Thorin his mouth opened letting out a gasp of pure pain. Thorin stepped back furrowing his brows as he realized Thranduil had the bend to get to his lips thus opening his wound even more.

“You really open your wound again, let’s take a sit and take a look.” Thorin indicate the spot they had been using near the fire. “I will tend to you and then we can really have something to eat, with this weather I don’t think we will go anywhere today.”

And just like that, in the midst of a fallen Kingdom and an awful weather King and Prince sat around the fire with heavy hearts and hope flickering in their minds. Thorin tried to get a hold of his rampaging emotions, of all the things he would love to do to the elf but most importantly to have a chance to be with him. Thorin lifted his face finding Thranduil was gazing at him tenderly, those silver eyes were warm and so open, Thorin smiled and then returned his attention to the wound talking about the medicines and how lucky they were Rose decided to share them with them.

Thranduil from his part sat there enjoying the attention, he tried to calm his beating heart while his thoughts ran around in his head. He understood the fears coming from Thorin, if Thranduil were to remember his past it could bring a whole new set of issues he was not sure how to face. He also knew there could be someone out there waiting for him, a lover, a wife….And yet, Thranduil _knew_ this was right. This was what he wanted and needed. For now, he was going to enjoy this for as long as he could, he would worry about the situation when the time was right.


	10. The Interlude

**Chapter 10**

**The Interlude**

He awoke with a gasp on his lips.

The room was dark and there was not sound but that of a faraway grumbling coming from the main chamber. He stared at the ceiling above him, even in the midst of such darkness he could make out the flames of fire consuming the land, he could hear the screams of dying folk and his mind was still trying to erase the image of Thorin dead on a plain of ice.

It had been a nightmare, but the Elven-King had a feeling this was filled with memories and warnings. The bad taste it left on his mouth could not be shaken easily, he made a face as the flashes came back and he forced them down. Deep inside the white fog of his lost memories. 

Thranduil blinked a couple of times sitting down while glancing around the room. At some level, Thranduil knew the nightmares came from a repressed memory, but Thorin with blood on his face lying dead on a plain of ice had been something else. Something he dared not to think about. 

The elf cleared up his mind a sudden wave of uncertainty grew in him when he noticed he was alone, the space Thorin had used to rest was empty and Thranduil noticed the dwarf had placed all the covers on him. To keep him warm. Thranduil smiled softly, there was no need to do such a thing, he really did not feel the cold of the night but the gesture had been nice and it made his heart swell with affection.

The Elven-King stood up, his eyes drifting towards the entrance of the chamber, he knew Thorin was fine, he was probably out there watching the snowstorm or something equally foolish. And yet, Thranduil could not help the dread in his mind the nightmare had left in him; he shook his head trying to hold onto another set of memories and soon he found himself thinking about the night before.

This thought brought a smile upon his lips, as he put on his undershirt and the robe on his body, he could not stop but think of what they had shared. Thranduil could still feel those lips against his, the ticklish texture of the beard, those arms holding him tight; Thranduil felt the corner of his lips tug into a smile. He could hear the voice of Thorin speaking to him, stories and idle chat as they eat or drank tea, as they kept shooting one another timid almost youthful stares; there would be innocent touches there and then stolen kisses in between and Thranduil had to wondered since when did he allow such a childish behaviour to dominate his actions. Was he always like this?

The darkness around him only grew as he exited the chamber; his eyes soon found the shadowy form of Thorin standing by the gate. The morning was not bright though at this distance Thranduil did see the blizzard had subsided during the night; now without any interruptions or distractions Thranduil could finally centre his attention to the place he was in.

What had been a great Kingdom once was just a shadow of a forgotten past.

Thranduil could not help but admire what once must have been a great outpost filled with warriors and weapons ready to defend the Dwarven-Kingdom. The Elven-King strolled down the hall, his eyes taking in every corner, every crevice and stone worked by skilled hands; as he finally got to examine the room before him, Thranduil could almost _sense_ the past in these walls. The untold stories of those who went out to defend their home, the sleep malice that awoke in the place when it was taken over by a cold-drake and countless of orcs and wargs that might have used the place to rest; the Elven-King wondered how he had not noticed before the shadows hanging in the air.

He shook his head until he realized he had finally reached the gates, for a moment Thranduil hesitated as his eyes fell upon the form of the Dwarven-Prince.

Thorin was standing his full height, with his arms crossed and his axe firmly placed on his back. His eyes seemed to scrutinize the form of the faraway mountain and the main gate to Dáin’s Hall. He did not change his posture but the elf noticed how those beard lips form a content smile as he moved closer to Thorin. The heart of the elf fluttered warmly at the sight, whatever doubts still lurking in his mind were soon quieted down by the memory of beard lips against his, deep voice comforting him while putting his worries at ease. Whatever hesitation Thranduil experienced a moment ago was soon forgotten as his need for the dwarf grew inside him.

“Do you think it wise, Prince Thorin, to stand before such weather without any protection against it?” Thranduil spoke teasingly and his voice was carried away by the echo of the chamber.

The dwarf tilted his head, those blue eyes shining brightly as they fell upon the form of the elf. Just as he was expecting, Thorin was smiling that soft tender smile that would speed up his heartbeat and make a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

“Nay, perhaps it is not wise.” Thorin did not turn completely and Thranduil could read amusement and tenderness in his features. “But, I was getting restless inside the room. The storm seemed to subside so I thought I will see it for myself.”

Then, he shot Thranduil a quick smirk, “Besides, you’re a heavy sleeper, King Thranduil; I did try to wake you so we can entertain ourselves with some activity. It was almost impossible to do so.”

The Elven-King approached Thorin with a single eyebrow lifted, those lips curled up while his hands twitched at his sides.

“And, what did you have in mind, Prince Thorin?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not the same as you.” Thorin finally said, moving away from the elf while laughing at the perplexed expression from Thranduil.

“And, what do you think I have in mind?” Thranduil inquired amusedly though his cheeks colour a faint pink under the heavy stare of the dwarf.

Thorin stepped forward grabbing the hand of the elf in his, turning it around so he could place playful kisses on top of it, his beard scratching pleasantly on the smooth skin.

“You were thinking about tasting my lips again, and I know this because I also entertain such a thought.” Thorin replied, enjoying the gasp coming from the elf when he sucked lightly on the wrist, he smirked at the way those elven eyes narrowed while the hand he still had in his trembled lightly.

“And what is stopping you?” Thranduil inquired matching the expression Thorin wore at the moment.

“You height, primarily.” Thorin saw the silent amusement showing on elven features. 

“Would you like me to bring a box or a ladder?” Thranduil could not help the laughter in his question; he enjoyed the roll of blue eyes and the tug on his hand making him move closer to Thorin.

“Why don't you kneel? “ Thorin retorted defiantly, and this time around he could see a fire burning in those silver eyes and he was reminded of the Elven-King and not the elf he had been journeying with.

“I may want it, Thorin, but I'm not that desperate.” Thranduil replied defiantly, lifting his free hand to caress the beard adorning the jawline of Thorin. 

Thorin broke into laughter pressing another kiss on the elven hand he was holding tenderly, Thranduil blinked away slightly confused though no less amused by the strange interaction.

“You’re still a King, whether you remember or not.” Thorin let go of the hand tilting his head to the side. “I would never ask you this, unless it is something you want.”

“In your dreams, dwarf.” Thranduil rolled his eyes when Thorin chuckled again.

“Don't tempt me elf, you don't want to know what you do in them.”

Thorin smirked in triumph when he saw the elf tremble slightly under the suggestive tone, the flustered Thranduil turned away though he wore a content smile and Thorin had to count this as another triumph. 

A comfortable silence set amongst them, whatever nightmares had tormented Thranduil out of his sleep were soon forgotten. They stood by the doors watching how the storm seemed to finally be replaced by soft winds and just a snowsquall; Thranduil finally got a good view of what Thorin had been observing all this time.

In the distance rested a great gate guarded by two war goats and two Dwarven warriors engraved on the walls of the mountain. The place was like a ghost town, wherever Thranduil turned his eyes he could see the fallen weapons or the pieces of stone and metal that had been part of the yard standing before the dwarven city. Thranduil flickered his stare from the gate to Thorin who was looking longingly at the mountain.

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil inquired softly. 

“I was restless, and came here to think.” Thorin confessed watching as the form of the great gates of Dáin’s hall appeared from behind the falling snow. “If this continues like this by tomorrow or the next day we are going to be able to continue our journey.”

It was really curious how their self-imposed mission hung above their heads at all times. Thranduil did not forget this journey started as a way to get back to their people, and Thorin certainly had set his goals to that very end. With each passing day, they were getting closer and closer and, while Thorin grew in anxiety, Thranduil debated himself in the sweet oblivion of his mind and the sudden fear of losing Thorin to a different fate. Thranduil turned to Thorin who was looking with longing in his eyes to the ghost city beyond the outpost.

“We could go over there.” Thranduil said suddenly standing right beside the dwarf who turned sharply towards him

“What do you mean? “

“I know your intention was to visit your forefathers’ halls, the storm is not as bad as it was the day before.” Thranduil commented lightly. “We can put our cloaks and go over there and visit the city while we wait. I did promise you we could come, didn’t I?”

Thorin stood there for a long time, his face was inscrutable. Then, he nodded curtly, his blue eyes gleaming with a hint of contentment and excitement.

“If you're not against the idea… “

“Why would I oppose it if I just propose it?” Thranduil replied amusedly, he stepped forward, his hand lifting to caress the left cheek of the dwarf, his heart caught in his throat at the sight of such happiness he could see on Thorin.

“Thank you.” Thorin whispered, turning to place a kiss on the open palm, Thranduil tilted his head and without a second thought leaned in until his lips could meet those beard ones.

This time around the kiss they shared was soft, a single brush of lips that left both males trembling slightly. Thranduil stepped back looking away coyly, his lips tingling pleasantly.

“What was that for?” Thorin asked, still firmly planted on the spot.

Thranduil returned his attention to the dwarf; he let his tongue caress his lips before speaking.

“Sometimes you are that irresistibly.” Thranduil replied, shrugging. “I’m just happy I finally get to do it without any fear of rejection.”

Thorin grinned goofily, raising an eyebrow while Thranduil turned around chuckling lightly.

“Come, Master Dwarf, let's get those cloaks and visit Dáin’s Halls.”

Whatever Thorin thought he was going to find in this place, it certainly was not what he found.

Thorin cleaned up his coat while stepping inside the empty hall, his eyes soon went to the form of broken gates and fallen ceiling. To the crumbling columns and the decay and rotten remains spread out on the ground, snow covered the things closest to the gate though the rest of the halls seemed to be coated by a thin layer of frost.

The place was dark and cold.

And there was no sound echoing through the empty halls, the place itself was a vestige of forgotten tragedies. Wherever Thorin turned he saw death and decay, the fallen remains of those who had not escaped the fate that befell Dáin’s Halls.

For a brief moment, as he stood in the midst of such destruction, Thorin was reminded of his own home. His Kingdom had fallen to fire and no ice so probably the walls would be decorated with fire and smoke; and what about those who had fallen inside the mountain? Thorin clenched his fists as his eyes took in the desolation in front of him, something inside his mind and heart shifted unpleasantly as dark thoughts started feeding his mind. The similarities broke something inside his mind, was this the future that awaited Erebor?

Broken halls inhabited by a slug on top of a hoard of dwarvish gold? 

Thorin turned abruptly when he felt the weight of two hands on his shoulders, his blue eyes sought out those silver ones and whatever darkness was growing in his mind was soon replaced by the tender light of the elf. Thranduil was glancing at Thorin with an unreadable expression; all Thorin could see were those eyes and the affection they kept only for Thorin.

“Are you alright? Do you want to continue?” Thranduil asked softly.

Thorin wanted to say no, he had seen enough. He never expected to see ruin and devastation; if he was honest he was not sure what he was expecting. He shook his head, placing a hand on top of Thranduil's one offering a half smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I’m fine; this is not what I was expecting. But, I want to continue, if you don’t mind.”

Thranduil seemed as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it, he bowed his head lightly and took his hands away.

“I don’t, let’s continue.” Thranduil watched as Thorin nodded curtly, turning around and following a different passageway.

The elf stood there for a moment, his soul was flickering uncomfortably as if it felt watched; up until then he had not paid any mind to the place, his attention had been completely focused on Thorin who seemed rather affected by what he saw. But, now that he got the time that he _felt_ this strange coldness surrounding his body, Thranduil realized there on one of the walls was a drawing of a lidless eyes with a bloodied slit for a pupil opened on a pit. Thranduil tensed completely as his mind pierced painfully at something he _should_ remember, the malice such a symbol held.

“Thranduil?” The voice of the dwarf broke his attention and when he turned around he only saw Thorin glancing at him confusedly, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I was just…” Thranduil trailed off before offering a half smile. “It was nothing, let’s continue.”

But, as they moved further into the mountain Thranduil realized he was not the only one affected by the sleeping malice inside the mountain. And the nightmare he had forgotten came back piercing his soul with an ancient fear. 

*****

They walked around many chambers and different halls, some of them leading upwards, some other downwards. Many were already sealed, others held a foul smell that made them turn back and look for other places. As they moved further inside, Thranduil was shivering uncomfortably under the low temperatures of the mountain, his muscles had tensed completely and his soul seemed to be itching in discomfort. He was restless, wherever he turned he could see that lidless eye watching...following them; but he dared not to say anything for there was no logical explanation for what he was feeling and Thorin seemed rather fascinated by the dwarven halls.

He watched as they finally entered a great hall, it was a concave space where the ceiling had already fallen and the walls were decorated with the thin layer of frost. Thranduil pursed his lips as he realized the stone on this chamber was dark, almost black and whatever pressure he had been feeling on his chest was unbearable in this place.

Up until now, Thorin had not even noticed the discomfort coming from his companion. Once he passed the initial shock, it seemed as if the place itself called to him, he found himself thinking of all the things he could do to the place, of the things he could do back in Erebor once he recovered it. He tried to dismiss his own discomfort; to simply quiet down the voice that told him there was something _odd_ about this place. He entertained himself with what he could see, the previous work of dwarven hands on stone as they created what had been a great city. Thorin could feel his heart hammering against his chest, the blood boiling inside him as he approached the throne hall; his eyes soon found the smooth surface of what was a former mural, his eyes gleamed strangely as he approached it his hand stretched out until he touched the drawing of a bleeding eye.

The wall was frozen and, whatever enchantment it held upon it made Thorin yelped in surprise as he stepped back glancing at his hand with eyes wide open in horror.

“Why did you do that?” Thranduil did not even doubt when he knelt down knitting his brows together with his eyes shining with concern, he grabbed the hand of the dwarf in his pursing his lips as he felt the shivering coming from Thorin and he realized just how cold it was to the contact.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, clenching his teeth while glancing at the elf, he could notice just how worried Thranduil was looking at the moment.

“There is something about this place, it’s like an enchantment.” Thranduil commented softly, his hands rubbing tenderly against the hand of the dwarf sharing his body heat while making sure there was no more damage to the skin or the hand.

The Elven-King lifted his head and found himself looking deeply into blue eyes, Thorin had an inscrutable expression as he observed the elf before him.

“I thought you were not that desperate.” Thorin finally said and his lips broke into a half smirk, Thranduil rolled his eyes rubbing the cold hand of Thorin trying to ignore the wiggling of eyebrows or the heat in his own cheeks.

“I am not, so do not get used to this.” Thranduil stared at the wall then back at Thorin. “Don't touch anything. This place is… Wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Thorin did the same as the elf, turning his eyes to the wall then to the rest of the chamber.

Thorin had not noticed until now just how dark it was, or how cold. There was an unpleasant shiver traveling down his back piercing through the muscles of his left arm, he furrowed his brows turning to Thranduil who was holding his left hand tenderly in between his hands. The Dwarven-Prince blinked a couple of times finally taking the time to stare at the elf with some detail, he saw the wrinkling of his eyebrows and the pursed lips, those eyes glancing to him then to the room they were at, Thorin could also see just how the grasp on his hand was tender but also apprehensive.

With a heavy sigh Thranduil finally spoke toneless, his attention on the hand he was holding.

“There is something hanging in the air, a sleeping malice. I cannot say with certainty,” Thranduil pressed his lips together, locking eyes with Thorin. “I don't like it, and your hand is cold not because of the weather but because of the evil enchantments that survive in this place.”

Thorin scowled at this declaration, he did not think Thranduil was doing a careless declaration but he had not sensed anything out of place. Of course he had noticed the _death_ , the decay and those eerie drawings on the walls, but so far the only strange thing happening was the sudden freezing of his hand. And that was not bothering him too much since Thranduil was still rubbing tenderly giving him some massages on his fingers, palm and wrist. Thorin could see there was something bothering Thranduil, but he could not help and admired the sheer beauty with which Thranduil was tending to him.

He said nothing but kept on watching as Thranduil centred his attention on the hand, lifting his eyes until they were looking at one another. With a coy smile in place, Thranduil lifted the hand to his lips placing a tender kiss in the dwarf’s knuckles. Thorin quirked a brow stepping closer tilting his head just as his face broke into a teasing expression.

“You know? I think I feel cold here.” Thorin pressed a finger to his lips, he smiled widely when Thranduil broke into laughter and his face lit up the dark place. Whatever shadows he had been holding soon disappeared under the magic of Thranduil's laughter.

And just when Thorin thought that nothing was going to happen, Thranduil leaned in pressing his lips to his sharing a soft, almost shy kiss with Thorin. It didn't last more than a few seconds, but it was enough to leave Thorin breathless and Thranduil flustered.

“Shall we…” Thorin cleared his throat, placing his free hand on top of Thranduil's one. “Shall we continue? “

“After you.” Thranduil conceded standing up and letting go of the hand with some reluctance.

After that little incident, Thorin did not touch the walls anymore though he came close enough when they reached what used to be the King’s Hall. The place was completely devastated, nothing survived but a single mural showing Durin the Deathless wearing the crown with seven stars conquering Khazad-dûm. Everything in the room was nothing but ruins, a long forgotten past and a world Thorin had been taught about that he was told he should be proud of, this was his history, the history of his people.

All of it crumbling before his eyes.

Ruin.

Death.

Devastation.

“We never came back.” Thorin said while looking around the room then back at the mural, his voice was broken deeply affected by the sight in front of him. “We could have. We should have but we never did.”

Ever since he entered the halls of the dwarves, Thranduil felt something strange. It was a darkness that seemed to survive the death of a Kingdom and the fall of a dragon. There was no need for memory, for this was something Thranduil _knew_ out of instinct. The evil in the world would never settle comfortably in the Firstborns unless they allowed themselves to be corrupted by it.

“There is no shame in turning your back to certain places, Thorin.” The elf stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the form of Thorin.

The Dwarven-Prince straightened up but did not turn towards the elf; he stood there still observing the great mural while his mind became a turmoil of thoughts. There was tension in his posture, and his face was marked with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, fists closed tightly and the faintest of shivers going through his body.

The Elven-King turned away from the silent rage, his face lifted to the ceiling where there was no longer marble structure or mighty columns holding back what had been the concave ceiling. The elf examined the place wondering if perhaps this was what they had seen back in Erebor, the destruction of Dwarven Kingdom, the pride of its people.

There was just so much desolation; the elf could almost feel the desperation through the walls, the sound of helpless screams as the inhabitants of the mountain tried to run and hide from the wrath of the dragon. Was this what they faced? Was this what he felt when facing the dragon?

Erebor, Mirkwood…

Everything lost.

Would he be back? Would they be back to their homes?

Or, would he thank the sweet relief of forgetfulness?

“I think I've seen enough, we should get out of here,” the cold voice of the dwarf broke Thranduil's thoughts, the elf turned to Thorin but he was still presenting his back to the elf.

Thorin started making his way out of the throne hall but Thranduil stopped him, when he turned around the Elven-King could see a Prince of the dwarves watching him. There was no kindness there, his whole posture changed to something cold and detached as if he was already too far away with something dark gleaming in those blue eyes.

Something unpleasant stirred in Thranduil's heart, he did not like such an expression on Thorin’s face. It was not him, as if a shadow had replaced the dwarf he had gotten to know in the last weeks.

They stared at one another, Thorin standing at full height the muscles of his body tense. Thranduil was not sure how to proceed, he took his hand away stepping back his head tilted to the side.

“We never came back here, this place was destroyed and we never came back.” Thorin repeated with an icy tone, “I won't repeat the same mistake; I won't let a slug reign over my home. I will go back and take Erebor back even if that’s the last thing I do.”

“You're going to face a live dragon all by yourself?” Thranduil inquired just as coldly, though there was terror gripping at his heart.

“If I have to!” Thorin screamed out hitting his chest with his close fists, those eyes gleamed dangerously as they glowered at the elf.

The voice resounded in the hall and Thorin was shaken to the core by his own scream. He stepped back opening his eyes feeling his heart beating like mad as if he had run for hours, his body was trembling and he did not recognize the sudden rage going through him. The Elven-King stood before him, his face never changing though his bearing turned severe and he had straightened up enough to be towering above Thorin.

They stared at one another for what seemed an eternity until Thorin hung his head, dropping his shoulders.

“I cannot give up, can I?” Thorin finally said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I didn't mean to scream, I…”

“I know.” Thranduil replied softly, “we should go back, I don’t like this place and I like even less what is doing to you.”

Thranduil walked past Thorin never once looking back, Thorin stood there for a moment confused at his own anger at the sudden reaction he had. They did not speak again, by the time they reached the gates the winds were not as strong and the snowflakes were just white dots adorning the sky.

This time around the walk back to the outpost was not as difficult, it was still cold but at least now it was bearable. For some reason, this visit didn't turn out the way Thorin expected it, he hoped to see the grandeur of its people perhaps to share some of the great stories about his forefathers. He was waiting for this moment anxiously so he could show Thranduil the greatness of dwarves, perhaps to convince Thranduil how amazing they could be. However, whatever had happened, whatever he had experienced was unexpected and it left an uncomfortable void between them, a tension he thought would never come back.

*****

Thorin stood in the far away wall watching as Thranduil moved around lighting the fire and fixing his clothes and his few items on the backpack. They had said nothing, and Thorin hated how it seemed they were far from each other; the dwarf winced when his left hand pulled on some muscles, his back and neck hurting uncomfortably due to the tension he had accumulated during the visit.

He stepped forward pursing his lips, his right hand going directly to the back of his head. Thorin opened his mouth to speak but found himself incapable of when Thranduil turned to him. They stared at one another, Thorin offered a tentative smile Thranduil was not ready to return.

“It seems the weather is improving, right?” Thorin wanted to hit himself at such a stupid comment, by the way Thranduil quirked a brow nodding curtly it seemed as if the elf wanted to do the same.

“Would you like some tea?”

The question caught Thorin by surprise, he nodded blinking a couple of times. Thranduil went to busy himself with the pot and the mugs while Thorin blinked away his confusion. 

“You can sit, if you want.” Thranduil said, shooting a quick glance to Thorin who was still standing awkwardly near the door. 

At first Thorin was not completely sure of what to do, but after a moment of awkward silence Thranduil offered the hint of a smile. 

Thorin pressed his lips, sitting down watching with growing affection as Thranduil prepared everything until he was satisfied with his own work. Whatever turmoil he experienced back inside Dáin’s halls was being forgotten little by little with Thorin observing the elf’s every move. Finally, after what seemed an eternity Thranduil was satisfied with his work and set to serve the tea for Thorin and himself. 

Everything had been so methodic, Thranduil had worked around with a face of pure concentration. Now that he sat down Thorin could not help but wonder if the elf had done this before Túnsberg, before Erebor, if he ever sat down to have tea with his son or those closest to him back in Mirkwood. The old doubts about them came back and he remembered this was a conversation they hadn't had yet.

“It seems we cannot outrun our meaningful conversations,” Thranduil said softly as if reading his thoughts, the elf took a sip from the mug before speaking and when he did Thorin saw the King in his mannerism, his voice and the tone he used to address Thorin. 

“Today you were highly upset.” Thranduil frowned, eyeing Thorin before setting his eyes on the fire. “But, it is my belief this was due to the place we visited and what you saw, I never got the chance to ask you but, are you doing alright?”

There was a moment of contemplation from Thorin’s part, he gazed down at the mug he had on his hands watching as the leaves of the tea floated around some dried fruit Thranduil had used on the tea. The beverage was not only warm but also delicious and it brought some comfort Throin did not know he needed. When he turned to Thranduil, he realized Thranduil sat with an expressionless face not giving away what he was thinking. It was amazing how Thranduil could play with both personalities without it being strange or even forced.

“I am.” 

Thorin replied softly his heart shifted uncomfortably remembering the coldness and the darkness, how he lost control for a moment. The sudden urge to tear the halls apart to fight and let go of all the frustration he felt when losing everything he held dear. Then, his mind reminded him of the elf, of those silver eyes glistening with concern as he tried to reach out for Thorin, of the conversation they held the day before, of the elven blood tainting his hands.

Thorin cringed, rubbing his shoulder again, lowering his head while trying to massage his neck.

“No, I'm not.” Thorin mumbled tiredly offering a half smile to the elf, “I don’t feel fine, you were right. There was something about that place, it made me feel strange. I was just helpless, useless, angry at all that destruction. But, I also felt a rage I’ve never experienced.”

“I know it has not been easy for you, Thorin. I can’t imagine it.” Thranduil faced Thorin with a light frown in his forehead. “You lost many things, Thorin. It is normal to be angry about it, but what happened back there was not you or your anger. Whatever happened here, darkness still hangs in the air.”

“We should have come, you know?” Thorin started and this time around his tone was different, quiet, calm. “That’s why the dragon was killed, we were supposed to come back and rebuild the place but we grew comfortable and never came back.”

Thorin snorted, shaking his head, “We never thought the story would repeat itself, apparently. And now we are homeless and I'm here not knowing what's happening or what my grandfather and father are planning to do and all of this just piled up.”

“It was never my intention to react in such a way, or to scream at you.” Thorin said, placing his hand on top of Thranduil’s one. “There is no excuse for that, I don’t want to...you are...You actually were the only thing clear in that cave. Nothing else makes sense.”

For a long time there was only silence, Thranduil observed at Thorin under a different light at that moment. So far Thranduil’s main concern had been his inability to offer _more_ to Thorin. He could not tell anything about his youth or childhood, of his adventures during the centuries he had lived; Thranduil knew he could not offer comfort or any kind of help in the situation they were in. He had been _helpless_ trying to look for something he could give Thorin and, when they spoke the night before Thranduil thought he had finally found something he could offer Thorin without any restrictions. His heart.

“You mean it?” Thranduil finally broke the silence, his voice came soft and almost shy.

Thorin nodded sharply, squeezing the elven hand he had held earlier, “Yes, Thranduil. I meant what I said today and yesterday. You are...my very heart and today I realized I was not wrong to call you my _One,_ it was you the one to put me out of that darkness.”

For a brief moment Thranduil wondered if perhaps his nightmare had been a warning against what had happened that day. 

“Whatever happened there, let us hope it won’t repeat itself.” Thranduil all but whispered then his eyes flickered back at the entrance of the chamber up until his eyes caught sight of the outside world.“The storm has already passed and the weather is improving, by tomorrow we will be able to continue.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at Thranduil who suddenly seemed uncertain, “You don’t sound too excited about the prospect.”

“I’m not the one who knows what’s missing.” Thranduil replied, lowering his gaze to their hands.

“But, once we get there, once we find your people then you will know.” Thorin said and this time around there was a smile though those eyes seemed rather melancholic. “You will finally find someone willing to tell you and answer all the questions I couldn’t.”

Thorin said the last part with a frown on his features, he did not like the idea of someone coming in to tell Thranduil everything about the elf and their kin and the enmity between dwarves and elves. He did not like the idea of perhaps a friend or...or a lover to come forth and take away what he had earned with so much effort.

“Whatever I find out won’t change my perception of you, Thorin.” Thranduil said reading the thoughts of the dwarf who turned sharply to stare at him. “I’ve seen you, Thorin and I have gotten to know you, to love you in this time we’ve been traveling together. There is nothing that would change my perception of you. Or the trust I have placed in you.”

“You really trust that much in me?” Thorin inquired, wanting it to be a jest but Thranduil pinned him to the spot with a single stare.

“I trust you with my life, Thorin.” He said firmly without a single hint of doubt on his voice. “I could never doubt you or your heart, and that’s why I have given mine to you.”

The last part was said with tenderness, Thranduil stretched out his hand to brush his fingertip against the beard of the dwarf. Thorin nodded curtly leaning closer, his eyes drifting to his left hand then back to those silver eyes, his heart jumping at the declaration from the elf.

“You have mine at your mercy, Thranduil. Now that I had sense such darkness is possible, I won’t fail ever again. Not to you and not to me.” Thorin replied softly then a sudden shadow passed through his eyes before he turned to Thranduil again. “I’m not sure what it was but it was something I wish to never experience again.”

“Then, allow me to be there for you. For as long as you want me.”

Thranduil whispered with the same tenderness his voice dripping off love in each and every word. The elf kept playing with the bushy texture of the beard still growing on the dwarf’s face, Thorin had long ago stopped thinking about Dáin’s Hall and now had his attention completely centred on the elf who seemed rather fascinated by his beard. Thorin watched as those fingers followed the pattern around his jawline up to his lips then to his ears, the silver eyes flickered playfully as Thorin gasped his eyes growing big when Thranduil returned his soft brushing to his lips.

“I think we should…” Thorin cleared his throat hating just how deep and husky he was sounding at the moment, this didn’t go amiss to the elf who lifted a single eyebrow the corner of his lips tugging upwards.

“We should work out!” Thorin exclaimed, jumping back when those elven fingers danced down to his neck.

Thranduil stopped his hand before tilting his head to observe at the dwarf who was rather flustered, those blue eyes dark with something Thranduil was afraid to explore at the moment.

“Work out? You really want to train?” Thranduil inquired with some edge on his voice, and while he enjoyed the fidgeting from the dwarf who found himself highly distracted by his sword and axe.

Thorin could not hold back his amusement even as he himself felt his heart beating rather fast, and his stomach had filled a hoard of butterflies. But Thranduil, he was looking rather affronted by the interruption and the sudden proposal, it was obvious for Thorin the elf was thinking something else at what he had proposed, the elf pursed his lips narrowing his silver eyes to the dwarf.

“Yes, I think we need it. I’ve been lazing around for far too long,” Thorin explained seriously, “the encounter with the orcs made me realize I have neglected my training. I don’t want any more surprises after we leave this place.”

As he said this Thorin could not help but turn his stare to the place where Thranduil was still wearing his wound. Thranduil softened under such a declaration; he didn’t miss the quick glance Thorin dedicated to his wound, not the frown adorning dwarven features. He pursed his lips bowing his head lightly before conceding.

“If this is what you want,” he said, shrugging. “Then, that’s what we will do.”

Thorin snorted, shaking his head, “It is not what I want. But, I do think we should try it, at least for a while. Then, we can do whatever it is you want.”

“If you’re not tired by then…” Thranduil let his words hang in the air as he turned around; his ears twitched pleasantly hearing the laughter from the dwarf.

When Thranduil heard the word practice, for some reason he imagined they would repeat the same training session they had done so many weeks ago. He had been looking forward to it since they had done it only twice and had not had the chance to do it again for quite some time; but as it seemed Thorin had other ideas.

“If you are not opposed to the idea, I would like to share with you some dwarven techniques.” Thorin made a face working the muscles of his back and arms, Thranduil seemed rather curious watching as Thorin took of his boots, his coat and left himself shirtless.

Thranduil did not oppose the idea, and soon he found himself in a drill practice of several fighting movements he thought rather brusque. He dared not to say anything though, Thorin was enjoying himself far too much following the patterns he had learnt from an early age while explaining to the elf what each and every single one of them meant.

They found themselves following the patterns, with Thorin fixing his posture and his feet while lifting the sword above his shoulders, then pointing it forward right in front of his head, moving backwards then forwards pointing the sword to the ground then up. And then, they started all over again until they moved onto the sequences he was taught for the attacks and then they would start a new set of positions and then another set of sequences for the defence. Thranduil loved every minute of it; it wasn’t because of the exercise though it was helping him relax, what he really loved was just how Thorin seemed to enjoy it.

Soon, the both of them were consumed by the training drill and, as it happened whenever Thorin took the lead, Thranduil found himself enthralled by the sheer passion with which Thorin shared his knowledge. At first, Thranduil though the dwarf had used this as a distraction for the things that had happened in the last day their kiss, their half-done conversation, the visit to Dáin’s Halls, the unresolved tension between them; and while it could be Thorin was trying to run from all of it, it was obvious _this_ was something they needed.

Thorin had been right, they had been careless and whatever knowledge they had regarding battle and fighting was lacking the same fluency it should held for warriors like them. At least, on Thorin’s part, Thranduil knew there was no need for him to hone his abilities, if came naturally for him. But Thorin seemed stiffened whenever he was trying to follow up on one of his postures. So, while there was still a conversation to be held, Thranduil humoured the dwarf and let him guide their activities for the rest of the afternoon.

*****

It was already late in the afternoon by the time they finished.

Thorin was cleaning himself up enjoying the cold contact of water on his heated face and chest, he sighed contentedly as his body ached with the physical exertion of the training they underwent through the day. Thorin rolled his left shoulder, then his right one; by now he thought the stiffness around his neck and back would be gone, but it seemed as if it had just increased twofold.

The fire cracked, flickering the flames around the air around them smelt of food and tea they had left from the provisions they got back in Túnsberg; Thorin turned his attention to the elf who was now looking at him with a grin on his face. As always, the Elven-King looked as if he had done nothing much than change positions on a chair or simply move from one room to the other . There was not even a strand of hair out of place, and he was looking just as handsome as always.

“Are you laughing at me?” Thorin finally asked when those silver eyes gleamed amusedly at him.

“No, I’m not.” Thranduil could not stop his smile as he sat down beside Thorin; Thorin narrowed his eyes tilting his head at the elf.

“Then, why are you smiling like that?”

Thranduil opened his eyes with his brows raised as he thought about the question, the elf was facing Thorin with a contemplative stare as his hand lifted to put away a strand of hair, his fingertips caressing the heated skin of the dwarf.

“You really are something else, Prince Thorin,” Thranduil spoke softly never leaving the eyes of Thorin, “I find myself quite enthralled by you, the resolution behind your actions, the fire in your eyes, the passion with which you take everything in…”

Thorin looked away self-consciously not really knowing how to react to these words, to this declaration.

“Whatever I may have thought of you or the dwarves before this moment, I know I will never think the same ever again.” Thranduil commented, putting his hand away, Thorin turned to him lifting his chin, “not even if I remember.”

“When you remember them,” Thorin insisted and this time around his face broke into a serious expression. “You will remember everything, Thranduil. And, when that happens, I really hope you also remember these moments, that you remember your words. That you remember us.”

Thranduil did not let go of the blue eyes that were looking at him intently, he had to wonder just how bad was the past between elves and dwarves for Thorin to be so unsure of this. Of them. The flames danced around the room, and the shadows it projected on the walls were perfect for Thranduil to distract himself while he thought of an appropriate answer. He could understand the insecurity Thorin was experiencing, it came from experience and the teachings of his people; Thorin held his memories of everything whereas Thranduil was like a blank slate. If he were to remember what he lost, would he change what he was feeling?

The silence stretched between them as Thranduil continued with his silent contemplation and Thorin observed him patiently. The Elven-King tilted his head, his hair falling to his right side leaving his left completely open, the flames reflecting on his alabaster skin as those silver eyes gleamed with a light of their own. This time around he turned his attention to Thorin and examined everything he could see. Those strong features marked by youth and circumstances, the wrinkles around the eyes and the growing beard adorning a sharp jaw, the ample chest and broad shoulders, the bearing of an arrogant princeling that was only a façade for someone who was a noble and rather kind dwarf.

Thranduil lost himself in those blue eyes, his heart tingling deliciously as he let himself fall in them.

“I won’t forget us, Thorin.” He said softly. “I do not know what will happen, but you are the only real thing in my life. And, my heart won’t take it kindly if we were to part ways. Or, if you…”

“Didn’t I tell you? We dwarves love only once, Thranduil.” Thorin replied smiling softly at the elf, he sat up until his face was a few inches away from the one of the elf. “And you, my lord, have bewitched me in mind, heart and soul.”

“My, never let it be said dwarves cannot be poets.”

Thranduil smiled and soon he found himself being kissed with tenderness, he melted right away as Thorin took him in his arms and while the position was not ideal they shared the sweetest caressed off lips that sent jolts of unrestricted love through their bodies.

“I want all of you, my Lord.” Thorin said breathlessly as they parted and Thranduil pressed his forehead against Thorin’s one nodding eagerly.

“You have it all, Prince Thorin.”

Thorin chuckled cupping the elf’s face in his hands, those blue eyes gleaming with unrestricted love and tenderness.

“I won’t take you even if every fibre of my body is demanding it.” Thorin continued watching with some amusement as Thranduil blinked confusedly. “You are not just anyone, Thranduil. Let me court you.”

“What?” Thranduil exclaimed, jumping back until Thorin let go of his face.

“Let me court you.” Thorin repeated this time around with more conviction, “I mean what I said, Thranduil. You are not just someone I want to take into my bed, you have become so much more and while I ached to touch you…I just…I want to make it right by you. For you.”

“You want to court me?” Thranduil asked again and Thorin nodded firmly. “And, then what? What would happen afterwards?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment because he had not thought

that far away, he only knew he could not take Thranduil like a commoner. Or just another adventure.

“I cannot be certain, and I cannot make promises I won’t keep.” Thorin replied honestly. “But, my heart is yours, Thranduil. And that won’t change for anything or anyone.”

Thranduil leaned in until his face was hidden in the crook of the neck of Thorin, his arms wrapped around the Dwarf. For a moment he forgot all about the uncertain future, of perhaps someone waiting out there. He held onto Thorin until he made peace with what he had said. 

“You better had a good courting plan, Prince Thorin. I am King; I won't be easy to court.”

Thorin laughed, putting Thranduil to him before placing a tender kiss on his forehead. He had not doubt the elf would be a demanding suitor, but he was more than ready to take the challenge. 

“Are we good then?” Thorin asked suddenly he winced lightly turning his head from left to right while trying to get past the discomfort on his muscles.

“We are more than fine, Thorin.” Thranduil said chuckling while positioning himself right behind the dwarf kneeling down while placing his hands on Thorin’s shoulders. “You really are a pamper prince, are you not Prince Thorin?”

“What? What are you doing?” 

Thorin felt his breath hitch the tension incised for a moment until a soft voice spoke in his ear.

“You really are used to a soft bed, your neck and back is usually suffering for our sleeping arrangements.” Thranduil started working around the shoulders of the other male, his attention completely focused on his task. 

Thorin gave in without too much difficulty after a while; he lowered his head sighing softly.

“Perhaps, I just like the attention.” Thorin said enjoying the sweet laughter coming from the elf.

“I have no doubt about that assertion, Prince Thorin.” Thranduil kept on kneading the sore muscles, working his fingers on the knots he found while still speaking closer to Thorin. “And, I have to say, I also enjoy giving you this kind of attention."

Thorin snorted tilting his head to see the playful glint in those silver eyes, and while Thorin wanted nothing more than to fulfil his desires, he meant what he said. Thranduil deserved more, he deserved better and Thorin was ready to give that to him; he needed to make sure of it before they finally reached out their people. Before something happened and whatever promises they were making at the moment had any chance to be broken.


End file.
